


Heaven's Demons, Hell's Angels

by CynCyrGaines (lexa1214)



Series: Pleasure and Pain [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Attempted Murder, Beating, Big Brother Mycroft, Crossover, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Greg Feels, Greg Lestrade & John Watson Friendship, Handcuffs, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Jealous John, John Feels, Kidnapping, Love Confessions, M/M, Mean Mary, Mycroft Feels, Not Canon Compliant, Oral Sex, Pining Greg, Pining John, Pining Sherlock, Protective Mycroft, Sexual Tension, Sherlock Feels, Virgin Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-04-08 19:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 124,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4317312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lexa1214/pseuds/CynCyrGaines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We figure out a way to either make it right or we move forward, either way we are not going to mope around. Emotions have made us soft, Sherlock and now it's time to change all of that.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_He swore he loved_ me _...Promised that he would fix things, make them right. How is_ this _even right? How am I supposed to handle this? He swore last night we would be together that he would never leave me alone. I gave him something I've never given anyone and now, here I am, standing beside him...watching...as he marries another..._

Sherlock moved through the wedding service as if on autopilot. He smiled when he was supposed to, answered the questions he needed to, and took the _appropriate_ pictures with the _appropriate_ groups at the _appropriate_ time. He was beginning to loath that particular word. It seemed to be Mary's favorite word currently and Sherlock was beginning to wish he could have found the _appropriate_ way to have declined coming today. One thing he could breath a little easier about was the fact that he had yet to find himself alone with John, in any capacity, whatsoever. Despite his duties as the best man, he had found a way around having to meet with him in his dressing room before the ceremony. During the toast, despite having turned towards the couple, he did not look directly at either of them. Not that they would have noticed, they had been watching each other. He had sworn to himself that this would not break him, that he would not let his pain rule him. Looking at the man he loved while he had married another hurt more than he had expected or ever wanted to feel. Now, he had done his duty and given the traditional toast to the bride and groom and was ready to leave.

His gaze searched the room looking for his older brother, frowning when he noticed he wasn't there. When his cell rang, he reached into his pocket and pulled it out. Noticing Mycroft's name on the caller ID, his frown deepened. “You're supposed to be here at John and Mary's wedding. Why are you calling me if you were not going to show up Mycroft?”

_“Because I did not want to see the pain you were going to go through watching him marry that woman. You and I both know, Sherlock, that it does us no good to have feelings, they do nothing but get in the way of our work.”_

“That still does nothing to explain why you did not show up Mycroft. Again, if you were going to just stay at home then...”

“Sherlock?”

He froze, as one of the two people he was trying to avoid had somehow managed to sneak up on him. Turning slowly, he came face to face with Mary. “I'll call you back.” He told his brother and hung up the phone. “Mary,” He answered with a small smile. “How may I be of service to you?” _As if you haven't taken enough from me, you still want more!?_ His mind screamed in rage and pain. Emotions...emotions never did sit well with him. Hence the reason he and Mycroft tried not to have them or get involved with anyone. His brother was right, they only got in the way of things.

“I was wondering if you would talk to John? He seems to be a bit down about something but won't say what it is.” She looked up at him with cornflower blue eyes and a soft smile. “I'm not sure if it's the surprise of him being a father or getting married today that has him so quiet but I was wondering...”

 _A baby? John and Mary were going to have...a baby?!_ John had never said anything to him about it, hadn't so much as hinted that they were even trying to have a baby. Sherlock looked at Mary, could see her lips moving but didn't hear the words leaving them. Not until John suddenly appeared beside her, a strained smile on his face as he looked between them.

“Everything alright over here?” John looked from Sherlock to Mary. He hadn't been aware that they were talking until he had gone looking for her. All night, John had been trying his best to keep her from telling Sherlock she was pregnant, something he was still trying to come to terms with himself but failing at miserably.

Sherlock kept his gaze on Mary, a small smile playing around his lips then he turned his gaze to John. “I understand congratulations are in order for the upcoming arrival of a baby.” He saw the small flinch John tried to hide, noticed the way he went pale at the words. “You should have told us John, we would have helped you celebrate the news properly.”

John could feel his heart hammering in his chest as he looked up at Sherlock. _Please, Sherlock you have to understand._ John silently begged him with his eyes. He looked up into the turbulent ice blue gaze, wishing he'd been able to tell Sherlock everything before the ceremony. Anything would have been better than to see that lost look on the pale face. He could read the fear and pain in the others gaze, saw the confusion and wanted to wipe it away.

“Isn't it wonderful!” Mary smiled at both men. “We just found out yesterday! The doctor confirmed it after I fainted at work.” She said softly, linking her arm with John's.

Sherlock looked at Mary, giving her a small smile he nodded his head. “Then all is well? No danger to you or the child?” He asked the _appropriate_ questions at the _appropriate_ times. There was that damn _word_ again...

“Everything is as it should be. We should be expecting the baby's arrival in late spring, if all goes well. We're both surprised and excited, aren't we John?” She looked up at John with an endearing smile and waited for him to respond.

John looked down at Mary then back to Sherlock. “It, uh, it is a surprise for everyone.” He held Sherlock's gaze, willing him to understand that he hadn't known last night. That he had meant to keep every promise he'd made to him...until Mary had told him she was pregnant...

Sherlock gave him a sad smile, “Well it is a good surprise and on such a joyous occasion.” He nodded his head and almost released a sigh of relief when Lestrade joined the group.

“Evening everyone, so what is it we are discussing tonight?” He looked between Sherlock, John, and Mary. He could feel the tension between the trio and wondered about it. He also couldn't help wondering at the absence of Mycroft, why was he not here, had last's night argument been that bad he would just...

“Mary was just telling me that she and John will be expecting a baby in the spring.” Sherlock looked over at Greg, interrupting his thoughts and hoping the pain he was feeling wasn't reflected in his eyes. “A wife and baby are rare and beautiful blessings indeed.” Sherlock looked over at Mary and John and smiled. He jerked at the sound of his phone ringing, reaching into his pocket he pulled it out and looked at the caller ID. “Excuse me for a moment, I have to take this.” He turned and walked away, answering the phone at the same time.

John watched Sherlock as he walked away, wanting desperately to follow him, to explain what had changed. John watched the tall figure walk away, his gaze meeting Sherlock's until he disappeared around a corner. He blinked when he heard Greg ask him a question. “Uh, sorry Greg. W-what was that again?” He tried his best not to look back in the direction Sherlock had disappeared but it took everything in him. He smiled at the graying DI and answered his question.

“Shall we return to the buffet then? Sherlock should be back shortly to join us in the cutting of the cake right?” Mary asked John softly.

John tried to bite back a groan. He didn't want to be here and he knew Sherlock didn't want to either. He looked down at Mary, giving her a soft smile, “Yeah, he should be back by then.” He looked back once down the hallway, wondering where Sherlock had gone. It never dawned on him that Sherlock may have found a way to leave the party without anyone knowing. Leaving him to deal with the emotional turmoil of last night and today...alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock moved down the corridor as fast as he could, inwardly grateful to Mycroft for calling back. “Yes Mycroft, what is it now.” He tried to hide the tremor from his voice. The pain that was currently coursing through him was keeping him from retreating into his mind palace and he needed an escape...desperately.

_“There is a car out front waiting for you. Get your coat Sherlock...come talk to me, I am willing to listen...to everything that you are willing to tell me.”_

“And if I have nothing to say, what then Mycroft? Shall we sit in uncomfortable silence and pretend that w-we care?” Sherlock tried to catch his breath, the pain hurt so much more than he had ever expected. John and Mary were having a  _baby?!_ He looked back once before he turned the corner and saw the sky blue eyes watching him. The pain and need that swam in the rich blue depths hurt Sherlock more than anything else. After last night, he had thought John would never hurt him, that he truly did love him, and would never leave him. “W-what do we do, Mycroft, when our heart is broken and it hurts so much more than I... _we..._ would have thought?” He couldn't hide the tremor in his voice anymore, didn't try to stop the tears that gathered at the corners of his eyes. He turned back towards the door, making sure to grab his coat as he headed out. “What did I do wrong this time Myc? What did I do for him to choose her over me?” Sherlock asked softly, using his childhood nickname for his brother. He wondered helplessly what had happened for him to end up alone...again. 

Mycroft let out a soft sigh,  _“I honestly do not know Sherlock but we can discuss it once you are here.”_ There was a moment of silence then Mycroft said softly,  _“I know it may not mean very much coming from me, Sherlock, but I had honestly hoped you and Dr. Watson would make a go of it. He is...was very good for you.”_

Sherlock slid into the backseat of the car, biting his bottom lip as he tried to hold back the tears. “The pain Myc...what do I do about this... _pain_ ...how do I make it stop?” He whispered brokenly as he rubbed his chest. He couldn't catch his breath due to the lump of pain where his heart beat.

_“I truly wish I could tell you Sherlock but we will find a way...together. We will work through this.”_

Sherlock leaned back in the seat, unaware of the blond man who had just exited the building after him. He missed the look of pain that had crossed his tan face when he spotted the black car and headed in its direction. Nor did Sherlock get to see the tears that gathered in sky blue eyes as the black car pulled away...

~0~~0~~0~~0~~0~~0~~0~~0~~0~~0~

John excused himself as quickly and politely as possible, once he realized Sherlock hadn't returned yet from his phone call. He smiled at Mary and told her he would be right back, that he needed to handle some last minute preparations. He left the ballroom as fast as possible and headed back down the corridor after Sherlock. He needed to talk to him, to explain what had happened. How Mary had ambushed him as soon as he returned back to their flat. He had been floored when she told him she was pregnant, this was not something they had discussed, this had not been a part of their plans. Looking around, John spotted Sherlock just as the doors closed behind him. He didn't miss how the tall, pale detective was moving quickly, coat in hand. John picked up his pace, if his guess was right Mycroft had sent a car to pick up the tall brunette. John had been aware that the eldest Holmes brother had not shown up at the ceremony but wasn't sure if it was due to Greg being there or because of John, himself.

He had just made it outside when Sherlock slid into the backseat of a black car. _No, please, Sherlock wait, just let me explain!_ The words froze in John's throat when he looked at the pale face, noticing the way he was rubbing his chest. He had hurt Sherlock in ways that no one else had. John had promised Sherlock that he wouldn't, that he loved him above all others, and that he would never, ever leave him alone. Even after the gift Sherlock had given him, he had broken two of those promises. John needed to talk to him, to get him to listen to what happened and why. If the child was his he couldn't just walk away but if it wasn't...if it wasn't that meant that Sherlock had been right all along and Mary was playing him for a fool. He watched helplessly as the car drove away into the darkness, taking Sherlock out of his reach, once again.


	3. Chapter 3

“You're not listening to me, if you were then you would have heard me when I said something just...isn't right with Mary. She came home yesterday asking me where I've been, who did I see, and if I had been followed. It's all just, really very strange Sherlock.” Dr. John H. Watson was sitting in his usual chair at 221B Baker St. He was trying to talk to his best friend and former flatmate about the situation with his fiancee but it was difficult. Despite what most people thought, Sherlock was a very good listener and he did offer some sound advice at times. John had first been put off by the silence the other would often exhibit when someone was, _prattling on,_ as Sherlock would say, about their personal issues. It had taken awhile for John to find that layer underneath everything else but he had and the benefits had been far more than he could have expected.

“I fail to understand what it is you need from me, John. Are you wanting to know what I know or are you wanting to know what it is you're not being told?” Sherlock looked at him with a blank gaze. His expression devoid of any emotion, the ice blue gaze flat as he looked at John.

_He's hiding something. He's hiding something and he's afraid that if I find out what it is I'll blame him for it because he already knows._ “Bloody hell Sherlock, just spit it out will you? Just what the fuck is it that you know?”

Sherlock shook his head, he couldn't tell John what he'd found out after confronting Mary. He couldn't tell him that his wife was working for a homicidal maniac and that she had threatened him in return. Threatened his life if he didn't back away from John but how was he supposed to do that? _Why_ would he back away from him now and his life was obviously in danger? He had asked Mary these questions, confusion laced through out ever word.

_“Oh, well_ that, _is not my problem now, is it? I see how he looks at you however, the little lingering looks of longing and need. The small little touches here and there as if no one notices. I see how he tends to hover over you when he thinks you could be in danger. Yes, Sherlock, I am aware of my fiancee's feelings for you just as I am aware of your feelings for him, even if_ he, _is not. That does not mean, however, that I will concede to you without a fight. If you value his life as much as I know you do, please, back off or I will have to make sure you do so on a more...permanent basis.”_

Sherlock had been surprised at her statements, John had feelings for him? It wasn't true of course, just her way of throwing him of balance after confronting her about Magnussen and if Sherlock were honest with himself...it was working. He hadn't been aware that his feelings towards John had become so obvious to anyone other than his meddling brother, Mycroft. He had done his best to hide them, especially from John himself. He had been surprised that Mary had confronted him and had actually tried to play it off with scorn and disdain. Until she had shown him the pictures...

_“As you can see, I know very well of my husbands love for you. You both think you're doing such a good job hiding how you feel for the other, when in all actuality you're both failing miserably. John lusts after you, Sherlock, but I will not lose him to you. You will do as I have asked or you will lose John...”_

_“You can not blackmail me with simple pictures, Mary. John and I are best friends nothing more and your pictures are just that, pictures. Do you really think I would let you marry him knowing that you're putting his life in danger? You can hold on to your precious pictures,_ Ms. Morstan,  _but I will not allow you to endanger John's life.”_

_Mary had given him a sad smile, then pulled out another phone and a different set of pictures. Pictures of varies stages in his and John's relationship. The one she stopped on was of him and John laying on the couch, Sherlock curled around the blond as they both slept. She watched Sherlock's expression and whatever she saw there must have been enough because she closed the phone, then put it back in her pocket. “You see Sherlock, I know all about your feelings for John and his for you. He lusts after you and your innocence. It appeals to him on a level that I will never be able to and that's a threat to me and my happiness. Something that I will not hesitate to ensure even if that means eliminating all other obstacles. Your threats,_ Mr. Holmes, _do not scare me. I've been subjected to Magnussen's brand of torture more than once, so please, trust me when I say, there is nothing you nor your brother can do to me that I have not already been through.”_

_Sherlock had tried to remain calm after the last picture, to hide behind his usual mask of cold indifference and haughty disdain but couldn't regain his footing. Mary had shown him one of his weakness, one of a handful of people he would do anything to save. Even if that meant giving them up. “The picture proves nothing, it was a simple night of listening to good music with a good friend and passing out after drinks, nothing more. As for your boss and what he can do...” His ice blue gaze encompassed her from head to toe. “You may know what he can do but you do not know what I am capable of.” His gaze met Mary's cornflower blue, he held back the shiver that started to run down his spine. Her gaze was flat, void of all emotion and a thought suddenly struck him. “Y-you don't even truly care for John do you? T-this was all a ruse to separate me from him...” Sherlock was trying to think of a reason why...why would Magnussen want to come between John and himself?_

_“Say what you will Sherlock but I do care for John. I just wanted to let you know that I know all about John's desire to fuck you, of how he wishes it's you while he's fucking me. I know first hand just how much he wants you and I can see you feel the same. Ruse or no, Magnussen has his reasons for what he is doing. Please, Sherlock, if you care for him at all, then please, do as I have asked. The threats are very, very real and I am very capable of carrying them out. Trust me, when I say that this will not end as you wish it, Sherlock. Keep your distance from John Watson or Magnussen will make you regret it.”_

“Sherlock for god's sakes are you even _listening_ to me?” John was standing in front of the tall brunette, concern written all over his face. “What's going on with you, hmm? It's not a new case or anything because you or Greg would have told me? Is it the situation with Mary?” At the sharp look he received, John moved closer to him. “Come on now, Sherlock, you know you can talk to me about anything.”

“Not about this John, not when it concerns Mary.” Sherlock backed away from the man in front of him. He needed to keep a clear head about himself this time. From the pictures Mary had and from what she had said, someone was watching the flat at all times and he would not place John's life in anymore danger. “You know this is not my area of expertise, emotions...feelings...they confuse me and seem unnecessary to everyday life.” Sherlock knew he was lying, knew that if he wasn't careful John would pick up on the lie. He looked into the sky blue eyes of his one and only friend, the man who had silently come and stolen his heart from him and now he was unable to get it back.

“Y-you can't honestly mean that Sherlock.” John stared at him, surprised by the statement. “How can you say that they're unnecessary to everyday life? You have to have feelings or you wouldn't take the cases you take. Yes, yes I know you do it mostly for the complexity of the situation,” John waved his hand in dismissal of the impending interruption. “But you still _feel_ something or you wouldn't take the case.” He could hear the desperation in his voice. For years he's been in love with Sherlock, following him from one dangerous situation to the next. Hiding how he felt because he never thought Sherlock could feel anything for anyone but there was always something there. A look, a touch, or even a word and it would show more than John could have ever hoped.

“You are correct in your statement that I feel something but it's not as you would feel it. I only choose the more difficult cases to keep my level of boredom down. Besides, you and I both know that feelings can and will get in the way of a case.” He had turned away from John at the end. He didn't want to have to face him when he made that statement so he turned towards the kitchen and looked out the window.

“T-that's not true Sherlock and you bloody well know it!” John looked at him, pain in his eyes. He knew Sherlock didn't really feel this way, had proven as much when they had gone out the other night. “Something's wrong, what is it Sherlock? What's happened to change your mind about things?”

“There's never been anyone in my life to show me differently, John. I'm sure Mycroft loves me but that usually has strings attached to it in some way, shape, or form. I'm not to sure of my parents, although Mycroft said they both loved us very much. Yet they did all they could to avoid us at all costs. Victor doesn't truly count, although I'm sure in his own way he did actually care, despite the drug overdoses and beatings. He still claimed to love me, lusted after...” Shaking his head, chestnut curls dancing, Sherlock let out a weary sigh. “Victor left when I refused him the one thing he wanted most and I've been alone since.” He walked to the kitchen, opening random cabinets. Anything to get his mind off that memory and the desire to touch John and tell him everything.

“Victor was a grade A prick for that. Y-your lack of sexual experience should have made him want to wait. To want to cherish that particular gift instead of demanding it. If he was unwilling to wait then he was never the one worthy of it. Just because a person says the words, Sherlock, doesn't mean they always mean it. As you've found out from experience but there are other ways to say I love you or...or to show you _care_ for someone. The small things that people tend to overlook or certain actions or words...” John drifted off helplessly. How did he go about getting this man to understand how he felt without telling him straight out. How did he tell Sherlock that he'd fallen for him without him running in the other direction?

“Do you...John?” Sherlock had turned and slowly walked back towards the shorter blond. The question hanging on the air as he waited for an answer.

“Do I, uh, what, Sherlock?” John asked breathlessly. _Please god don't let him be asking just what I think_...

“D-do you care...” Sherlock flushed as he struggled to finish the sentence. He wanted to know if John truly did care for him but was uncertain if he would get an honest answer or if it would be an answer he wanted to hear.

“A-about what, exactly?” John had a feeling he already knew but wanted to be sure. If Sherlock asked what he was expecting him to, John wasn't certain he'd be able to answer in the negative.

Sherlock stood in front of John, Mary's words echoing in his head. _I know all about your feelings for John and his for you._ Could she be right? Did John really care more than he let on? Taking a deep breath, Sherlock stepped closer to John, his ice blue gaze never leaving the sky blue one in front of him. “If given the chance, John, would you... _care_...about me?” There, he'd said it. The words were out in the open between them and now it was up to John on whether they meant something more than just words.

John looked up at Sherlock, he refused to step back despite the tremor that raced through him. He was standing so close that John could see hints of gray in his eyes, smell the bath soap he'd used earlier in the day, see the way the pink tongue peeked out between those beautifully bow shaped lips. Tracing that lush bottom lip slowly, teasing John's senses with the desire to taste him and see... “Yes, Sherlock, I care about you. Probably more than you will ever know.” His gaze never left Sherlock's when he answered the question and he noticed the way the ice blue eyes had widened with surprise...and fear? “What is it Sherlock, what are you not telling me?” He knew there was something wrong, Sherlock would never willingly talk this openly about his feelings.

“I-if someone you care a great deal about is involved with someone dangerous, would you tell them or would you let them discover the information on their own?” He wanted to tell John about Mary's visit and what she wanted but he didn't want John to think he couldn't get along with his future wife.

“W-who is it Sherlock? What is this person involved with that could possibly hurt someone you care about?” John blinked at the abrupt change in conversation and tried to figure out who Sherlock was talking about and what could they be involved in that was so dangerous?

“I-I can not tell you, John, but this person means a great deal t-to me and I do not wish to lose their...trust nor do I wish to see any harm come to them.” He kept his gaze on John's face, memorizing and cataloging everything he possibly could about the blond. He didn't want to give up his blogger, his friend, his other half but Mary's words kept repeating themselves over and over in his head. _Keep your distance from John Watson or Magnussen will make you regret it._

“Whomever threatened you Sherlock, you can tell me, let me help you with this. Especially if someone you care about is in danger.” John tried to hide his jealousy of the unknown person. Who, besides John, Lestrade, or Mrs. Hudson had obtained such devotion from Sherlock?

“W-what if, _I,_ am the danger, John. What do I do then?” He looked into the sky blue eyes, saw the confusion and pain but there was something else there, something Sherlock had hoped for but never thought he'd ever see. He wondered how long it had been there, how long had John kept this hidden from him? “What if the person that could be hurt was...you?”

John looked at Sherlock, trying his best not to give to much away until his last question. “Me?” He blinked in confusion. “Who would want to use me to hurt you, Sherlock? What type of danger am I in that you would keep me in the dark? I-if you do care for me, at all, you would tell me the truth of the matter and let me decide where to go from there!” John stared at him, his gaze not wavering.

“What if it would be easier not knowing, John. The pain of what I know could never hurt you then.” Sherlock asked softly, he started to step back until John stopped him.

“You would never willingly put me in harm's way Sherlock. I've known for awhile now, since you came back, that you wouldn't. Who is it Sherlock, who threatened me to the point that you would much rather protect them instead of me?” John stepped forward, grabbing Sherlock by his shirt. “Why...Why won't you just tell me who it is? Let me decide if I'm truly in danger or not.” He looked up at the tall, pale brunette and wondered what was going through his head.

“No...” Sherlock stated as firmly as possible, his voice wavering slightly. He didn't move back from the hands that tightened in his shirt, he wanted to, needed to put some distance between them because he couldn't think with John standing so close to him. “This is not your decision to make John. It is mine and mine alone.” He wasn't proud of the slight tremor in his voice and hoped the blond hadn't heard it.

John's expression turned hard and stubborn. “You know I'll find out either way so why don't you just tell me Sherlock? My life must not be in that much danger if you refuse to let me protect myself. Honestly, how important can I be to anyone that they would use me to hurt you?”

Sherlock tried to control the small shudder that ran up his spine. He knew he couldn't just come out and tell John what Mary had said but...

“She came to see you, didn't she?” John looked up into ice blue eyes clouded with something...something John had never seen before. “Mary came to see you and now you don't want to tell me what was said.” He could see the truth swimming in the ice blue depths. “I-I had a feeling she would, I mean I can't very well call out your name...during...and she just...but I-I didn't.” He let out a nervous giggle, his gaze held by Sherlock's. “S-she said she would but I thought, I didn't know it would be...” He drifted off as he looked up at the man he wanted most. This tall, pale silent man who had stolen his heart, taken it from him without his knowing and now he had no chance of ever getting it back. If Sherlock hadn't left to hunt down Moriarty, then maybe they could have had a go of things but he had...and John had met Mary...

“I-is it true then, John? What Mary said, was any of it true?” He stared down at the short blond. He needed to know, he needed John to tell him that Mary was lying. He needed John to deny it because it would be easier to let go once he marries his future bride. He stared down into sky blue eyes, wanting desperately to believe that Mary was wrong but the longer he stared at John the more he began to realize...

“I've loved you from almost the very first day, Sherlock. T-then you jumped off of Bart's and I felt as if...I didn't know h-how to...without you and...” John whispered, looking up at him helplessly. He couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't hide how he felt for this man and still be able to go through life knowing he never told Sherlock the truth. “I-I was so angry when you...and it all hurt so _badly_...” He was shaking, trying to control his emotions but unable to. “W-when you showed up, alive, I was so...” He tried to control the pounding of his heart as he took a deep breath. “I was so angry with you for...for leaving me here...alone. I d-didn't know how to react or what to do so I...” He could feel his face heating with a blush.

“You punched me, John. In the face and rather hard I might add.” Sherlock gave him a small smile, his hands coming up to cover the tan ones still curled in his shirt.

“I wanted to just keep hitting you for putting me through all of that but all I could think was I was so relieved but so damn hurt.” John looked away from the piercing gaze. He wanted to move away from the other man, put some distance between them but Sherlock's grip tightened around John's.

“I,” Sherlock knew he needed to get it out, to tell John how he truly felt about him. “John...I-I need to tell you something.” He tried to control the trembling in his hands as he stared at the blond. He could see the small change in his expression, the hope that had been there was slowly being replaced by disappointment and fear.

“You don't,” John took a deep breath as he slowly started to pull back. “You don't have to say it back, Sherlock. I understand that you're, ah, married to your work.” He let out a small choked sound, “I just...I needed to tell you...”

“I love you to John and I don't know what to do about it.” Sherlock rushed out. He hated feelings because they confused everything, made him say and do things that he normally wouldn't. He wanted to leave the room as quickly as possible, had felt John pulling back from him and now...now the blond stood in front of him, silent and staring. “J-John?”

“F-for how long?” John asked breathlessly.

Sherlock looked down at him, confused by the question. “For how long, what, John?”

“How long have you known how you felt?” John stared at him intently. If he were right about the time frame, then that meant...

“I-I knew the day Moriarty threatened the three of the most important people in my life.” Sherlock tried to pull back from the feelings, to escape John's insistent gaze.

“Y-yet you still left me?” John let go of Sherlock's shirt and stepped back. “Y-you loved me the entire...and you just...y-you still...” John tried to catch his breath, staring at Sherlock as the pain of his supposed death then sudden resurrection came back to him. “Y-you put me through hell, Sherlock, thinking that I would never...then you just, suddenly reappeared out of now where!” John tried to control the trembling of his voice as he tried to piece together what was going through Sherlock's head at that moment and time, yet again.

“I-I tried to tell you, John. When I called, I tried to tell you then but he showed up on the rooftop. He knew I was on the phone with you a-and threatened Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, and you. Especially you because he knew...he knew you were one of the _only_ _people_...” Sherlock stopped. Frustration clear in his gaze as he tried to hide the drifting feeling floating through him. He bit back the soft whimper that had threatened to slip free when John had let go of him. The feeling of being left alone had come back, hitting him strong. He remembered the isolation he'd felt as he had gone after Moriarty and his group of murderers and thieves. He had done everything he'd had to, just to make sure that his friends and family were safe. He'd gone after the one who had threatened to take John from him, not knowing that he was already on the verge of losing him. “I didn't...the plan was only for six months John, not three bloody years, I-I never expected...”

“You could have found a way to contact me, t-to let me know! You could have told me the truth from the beginning!” John shouted, all the anger and pain he'd held in check came flooding back to the fore. “Y-you let me believe in a-a lie! You let me think...” John stopped as he looked at the tall, pale brunette and realized that they'd already had this argument, more than once. He'd already yelled at Sherlock for this, something that in the silent man's own way, he had done to protect those he loved most. “You tried to tell me before a-and I cut you off.” He saw the moment his emotions shifted, was waiting for it. “I had been so distracted by the plans for later and you tried to tell me...”

Sherlock could feel the heat suffusing his face, knew John could see the blush. He knew he'd hurt John by leaving but he had wanted to keep him safe. Had wanted to make sure that the man he loved would be free of any threats on his life. “I-I did it to save you, John. He knew...Moriarty knew how I felt for you before I recognized it fully. He'd told me he'd burn the heart out of me...he knew it was you.” Sherlock said softly. He was exhausted, tired of putting up a facade of indifference with this man. He wanted to be free, just once, to give what he could and take what was offered. “I love you...John Watson and I am unsure of what I should do about it.” He wanted to turn around and leave the room. He'd never stood so open before anyone since Victor and it was unnerving. He wouldn't run from John, however, not his blond haired, blue eyed blogger. He would face this and deal with it accordingly. Except...he didn't know how to deal with his feelings, he had hoped John would help him with them and now it was to late. “Tell me how do I handle these...feelings John? How do I watch you marry someone else knowing that she is a danger to you?”

“What are you talking about Sherlock?! Mary is not a danger to me or even to you...”

“She's the one who told me to back away from you! Someone has been watching me...you... _us_! S-she showed me the pictures, said she is aware of how you feel for me...” He took a shaky breath. “She told me that she was unwilling to let you go, that she would not let anyone or anything stand in her way of having you and that includes me.” Sherlock looked at the pale face of his friend, could see the conflict in his sky blue eyes. “She knows of my...feelings for you, as well. Very observant on her part and very smart to use it to her advantage.” He could see the turmoil inside John, knew he could end it with a few choice words, all it would take was a simple...

“I won't let you walk away again. Not this time, you can't just...I will not allow you to leave me, again.” John whispered fiercely. He stared at Sherlock, knowing that from this moment on things were going to change between them. He knew that no matter what, he was going to seize this chance to be with Sherlock and the consequences be damned.

“If I don't John, Mary said I will regret it. I can not take that risk with your life. You mean far to much to me and I will not see you harmed because of me.” Sherlock wanted to accept what John was offering, selfishly he wanted it all for himself, he wanted everything John was willing to give.

“You've always had all of me Sherlock, even in death...I-I loved you then and I love you still...”


	4. Chapter 4

He rode the entire way to Mycroft's in silence. The thoughts running through his head were torturing him and he tried to get them to quiet themselves by watching the streets of London fly by. He was lost, confused in a way he'd never been before. He was a genius, John had told him he was brilliant, amazing, beautiful...

_You're just so beautiful...God Sherlock, look at you, you're absolutely amazing...breathtaking just like this..._

He wanted to forget John's words, his touches...he wanted to forget the feelings he'd felt. He wanted to forget but knew it would hurt more than remembering. He couldn't forget John, couldn't forget what had happened between them nor could he forget the promises they'd made. The soft whispered words said in the dark but with so much love and promise. Sherlock bit back a sob as he closed his eyes to the view outside of the window. He hated this...the fact that he was so close to losing it...

Sherlock jerked slightly when his phone buzzed, alerting him to a text message. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he opened it and read...

_**Where are you? Please, don't leave like this...we need to talk - JHW** _

He tried to ignore the text but another one came through almost instantly.

_**Sherlock...please...I love you, please give me the chance to explain - JHW** _

Sherlock tried not to feel anything at the words, knew that if he let himself, he would simply give in and respond but he couldn't. He resigned himself to the fact that he would indeed have to let John go. Knew that in order for him to heal he would have to set free the one person who he cared for the most. So, instead of answering the texts, he simply closed his phone and slipped it back into his pocket. He wanted to give in, to talk to his blogger but John had made his choice and it was time for Sherlock to do the same. He needed to move forward with his life, regain his equilibrium. He needed a distraction, badly, one that would help take is mind off of the pain he was currently feeling. One that would remind him exactly why he and his brother both agreed that feelings were not necessary to everyday life...

But...

If Sherlock were truly honest with himself, he didn't want to hide his feelings for John or forget his pain. He just wanted it to stop long enough for him to catch his breath. He also needed to find Marcus Magnussen and end the threat to John once and for all. Even if that meant putting himself in danger again, he would do whatever it took to keep John safe.

By the time he arrived at Mycroft's, he'd received a number of texts. Certain they were from John, he had decided to ignore them. It wasn't until he was sitting in the car outside the house that he pulled out his phone. Taking a deep breath, he opened it and read the messages. His heart beat rapidly in his chest, he didn't want to give in, to _feel_ anything from the texts but this was uncharted territory for him. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do or say in this situation, so he left the car and headed inside. Looking up at the butler as he stood by the open door, he walked in and headed to his brother's study. He couldn't help rereading the texts from John and wondering what they meant.

“How many had you received prior to your arrival?”

Sherlock looked up into a pair of ice gray eyes, intent in their study of him. “Six, as of now. I don't understand Mycroft, if he did not love her why would he marry her?”

_**Please, Sherlock...I didn't know of the baby, I swear and I did not lie to you. I do love you Sherlock, more than anything.** _

Mycroft looked at Sherlock, a frown turning his lips down. “I wish I had an answer for you brother. I sincerely do but I do not believe John meant to hurt you.”

Sherlock shook his head, trying to ignore the feelings the latest text message brought on. He wanted to answer but wasn't sure he wanted to hear what John had to say.

“Do you wish to see him...” Mycroft looked over at his younger brother, scanning him with a critical eye. He didn't miss the bright red crescents on his cheeks or the red, puffy rings around his eyes. He didn't miss the sightly red and swollen nose or bottom lip. Mycroft couldn't help remembering Sherlock's habit of biting his bottom lip when he was upset or nervous. “If he does decide to come here, he can simply be informed that he is not welcomed or you are not in.”

“Thank you...brother.” Sherlock was sitting in a wing back chair near the fireplace. The other texts from John running through his head. He was confused about what to do but he knew he wasn't ready to sit down and talk to John...not yet. “I just want to lie down and think, if that would be alright?”

Mycroft looked closer at his younger brother, surprised that Sherlock had asked permission when he would usually just demand his way. “Yes, of course Sherlock. You know where the guest room is. When you're ready we can eat and talk, if you're feeling up to it.” He was worried now, looking closer at the brunette in front of him he could see Sherlock shutting down, pulling back into himself, hiding behind a wall that no one could break through. A thought flitted through his head about a certain Detective Inspector with graying chestnut hair and warm, dark chocolate brown eyes. “Sherlock?”

“H-he wants to explain but I-I can't...not right now Mycroft.” He looked over at the tall ginger, a sad smile on his lips. “H-he said he loved me, Mycroft, would n-never leave me yet he married... _her._ ” He turned his gaze back to the fireplace, tears clouding his vision. He didn't want to talk about this with his brother but there was no one else he could go to. Lestrade and John were close friends and he didn't want Lestrade caught in the middle. He glanced up at his brother from underneath his lashes and noticed the concern in his gaze. “Tell me how I can forget about this pain Mycroft, at least for a while, help me find a way to deal with this.”

“I'm not sure myself Sherlock. It would seem I'm not very good with relationships either.” He was staring in the fire now, thinking about how things had ended between Greg and himself. He couldn't shake off the numbing feeling that had settled in after their argument. If only he hadn't gotten that phone call...

“Then what do we do?” Sherlock, hated this feeling and was slowly beginning to loath the fact that he now knew what it was like to love someone...only to lose them.

“We figure out a way to either make it right or we move forward, either way we are not going to mope around. Emotions have made us soft, Sherlock and now it's time to change all of that.”

Sherlock's gaze snapped over to Mycroft's. “You have something you're working on, something big.”

“And I could use your help with it, if you're free.” Mycroft said with a small smile. “It involves a mutual...friend...so to speak.”

Sherlock leaned forward in his chair, his gaze focused and intense. “Will it give me what I want most?”

Mycroft gave him a small smile. “If we are successful, we will both have who and what we want most.”

Sherlock leaned back in his chair. Resting his chin on the tips of his fingers, his gaze moving back to the fireplace. “Tell me what I must do and when do we start?”

It was close to midnight by the time the two had decided to call it quits and have dinner, both aware of the events they were about to set in motion. After eating, Sherlock walked down the hall to the guest room and let out a soft sigh, his brother had already known he would be staying. Walking over to the small black bag sitting on the bed he pulled out his night clothes. A pair of soft blue silk pajama bottoms with a matching bathrobe. Mycroft had decided to head to John's wedding reception, something along the lines of looking for Lestrade. Sherlock shook his head at the thought and resumed what he was doing. He was getting the rest of his things ready for his shower when his phone buzzed. He'd forgotten about it in the time that he and Mycroft had been going over the current situation plaguing them. Reaching down, he flipped it open and froze...another text message from John, this one made his heart clench and his stomach flutter.

_**Please...Sherlock...I know you're angry with me probably hurt and I don't blame you but please, just let me know that you're alright? Are you going back to the flat?- JHW** _

_**I can't go back to 221B, not after...I just can't right now. - SH** _

He hadn't meant to answer but he also didn't want John worrying needlessly. Before he could set the phone back down on the nightstand another text came through.

_**Where are you then? Are you ok, are you safe?** _

Indecision made him pause, maybe he could give a vague response and John would leave it at that. He hoped so, there was so much at stake now.

_**I am safe, do not worry...goodnight John – SH** _

Sherlock, thinking that was enough, set the phone done on the night stand and headed to the bathroom. He should have known that for John, that would never be enough.


	5. Chapter 5

Looking at his watch, John bit back a frustrated curse as his anger threatened to bubble over. It was a little past midnight when Sherlock _finally_ decided to reply back to him. Why wouldn't Sherlock tell him where he was? He had said he was ok but John knew he was lying. He had seen the look in his eyes when he'd been told about the baby. Had seen the confusion and hurt as he'd tried to hide it behind a mask of civility. John let out a frustrated growl as he tried to control the urge to throw his phone across the hallway. He needed to figure out how to fix the current mess he was in. He needed to get out of here and find him, he needed...

“You two should have just eloped.” Came a soft baritone from behind him.

John whipped around at the voice, sighing softly as he looked into the concerned gaze of Greg Lestrade. “W-what, uh, what did you say, Greg? Who should have eloped?”

Greg looked at John, he could see the bags under the blonds blue eyes, the stress lines creasing his forehead and around his mouth. He knew what John was going through, the inner turmoil he was putting himself through as far as his feelings for Sherlock went. “You...and Sherlock, mate. You two should have just eloped then come back happy and ready to say fuck off to any and everyone.” He smiled at the surprised look that appeared on John's face. “What? You thought none of us could see what was going on between you two?” At John's look of uncertainty, Greg gave him a light punch in the shoulder. “You thought that we wouldn't notice the change between you two? He would do what you asked no matter who was around. He would listen to you before anyone else and he is more considerate with your feelings than he is with his own brothers.” Greg smiled, “You both were so blind that we never thought it would happen...we had been so sure and when Sherlock called Mycroft last night...” Greg tried to tamp down the hurt anger he felt at the tall ginger. The pain of what had happened not more than 12 hours before still fresh in his mind...

“Greg, what's happened? Did Mycroft say Sherlock called last night? T-that's not possible.” John flushed as he looked at his friend in concern. He had noticed that Greg seemed to be drinking a lot more than usual tonight but wasn't sure what it had to do with Sherlock

“Ah, not tonight mate, it's your wedding night. You need to go back in there with your wife and get ready to leave.” Greg watched as John seemed to shrink under his gaze. “You should have taken him, left town, and got married.” Greg swayed slightly as he watched John's face. “He's loved you from almost the first day, you know? Mycroft said that he never seemed to shut up about you, that he actually seemed happy. Then that, _bloody call,_ last night...”

“There's no way...I...w-we spent the night together, Greg. I-I don't know anything about Sherlock making a call.” John said softly. “Now, however, I wish I _had_ taken him and eloped. I wouldn't be standing here, miserable, worried, and desperately wanting him.”

Greg looked at John, surprise on his face. “Wait...you a-and Sherlock...last night?” He couldn't help whispering as he looked around the hallway. Maybe it hadn't been Sherlock who called last night then but if not Sherlock, _who_...

John flushed a dark red, he grabbed Greg by his arm and pulled him outside. “I...Mary isn't who she says Greg. She's been lying to all of us, especially to me. She threatened Sherlock yesterday. H-he told me that she wanted him to back off from me but I just...” Shaking his head, John let out a soft sigh. “I was going to confront Mary but she told me she was pregnant and I didn't...It's just so...I-I don't know what to do, Greg.” He whispered softly. “I want him, love him but i-if this child _is_ mine...”

“You don't want to abandon them.” Greg finished for him. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe he wouldn't have minded? That he would have wanted to help you, I don't know, possibly raise the baby?” Greg knew there was a different side to both the Holmes brothers. Despite the aloof and unconcerned air they both presented to most, those who got close enough to them got to see what was underneath. “If that's the case, why didn't you just tell him before the wedding?”

“I tried, damnit! Greg, I tried but he was no where to be found. I went back to the flat before we were supposed to meet here and he was...I-I don't know where he was but when I got there he wasn't there. I get here and he wouldn't talk to me, I didn't see him until it was time to go in and by then he wouldn't even _look_ at me.” John sighed. “He was so pale a-and he looked so lost and confused.” He needed to leave. He needed to leave and find Sherlock before it was to late. He needed to be sure that nothing happened to him. “I'll never forgive myself if something happens to him.”

“Come on mate, I may have somehow cocked up my relationship with Mycroft but I can damn sure try and help you fix this mess with Sherlock.” Greg gave him a crocked grin. He grabbed John by the arm and pulled him towards the reception hall. “You may not want to leave with her but you have to. Think of how it would appear if you and Sherlock both disappear? You give her a reason to go through with whatever threats she gave Sherlock. Give it a few mate, I'll help you figure it out. Maybe it will help me in return.” Greg gave him a lopsided grin as they walked back into the building.

John nodded, not really wanting to go back in but knowing his friend was right. “Do you think he's somewhere safe? I'm sure it was Mycroft who sent a car for him but d-do you think he's out of harms reach?” He looked over at his friend, a frown turning his lips down. He was worried about the tall, pale brunette. He needed to find out if he was ok or not. He kept replaying last nights events in his head. The feel of Sherlock pressed against him, the soft, breathless moans that had left his throat. He couldn't forget the sounds nor could he forget the heated whispers they had shared. The promises made in the dark between two lovers who desperately wanted to be together, needed each other. Shaking his head, John looked at Greg. “I don't know if I can keep this up mate. H-how am I supposed to do this knowing that it's hurting Sherlock?”

“What's hurting Sherlock?”

John whipped around at the voice behind them, not surprised to see Mary standing there. “Oh, nothing just this new case he's working on.” He wondered exactly how long she had been standing behind them and exactly how much had she heard. “It seems to be tying him in knots so he left early.”

Greg nodded, “He can be a right git when a case gets to him, so he decided to leave before he hurt someone's feelings. Didn't want to ruin your big day.” Greg gave Mary a charming smile. “Come, Mrs. Watson let me get you a drink, you and your husband are getting ready to leave so I want a moment of your time.” Greg led Mary over to the dessert table, a small smile on his lips. He nodded to John, then glanced behind him. His eyes widened for a moment then narrowed before turning back to Mary.

“Dr. Watson...”

John's gaze jerked up to collide with the ice gray of Mycroft Holmes. “Sherlock isn't here. He said he was safe where ever he's at and that he was ok. So why are you here Mycroft?”

“He is at my house, Dr. Watson. He came to me after watching the man he loved marry someone else. He's heartbroken, something I have never wanted for my brother, despite our differences. I did hope, however, that you would be the one exception to the rule.” Mycroft scanned the room, looking for a certain Detective Inspector.

“He's at the dessert table with Mary and don't you think I know he's hurting? I'm hurting too, damnit! He left without letting me explain what happened, to figure out how to get out of this mess, alone.” He looked at Mycroft, watched as his gaze scanned the room again then narrowed.

“It would seem that we both made an error in judgment then.” He stated softly, watching as a tall red head approached Greg. He tried to tamp down the wave of jealousy that shot through him but couldn't. He regretted the argument between them after last nights phone call. He had been trying to figure out how to fix things since Greg had stormed out earlier that morning and was still coming up short.

“Umm, why, exactly are you here, Mycroft? I seem to have already asked you that and you have yet to answer.” John was tired. Tired of pretending, tired of fighting, and tired of being so confused. “If you're here to tell me how he's doing I already know. I saw for myself what I did to him and if I could change it all then I would! Since I can't and he won't listen to me...”

“What if there were a way for that to happen, Dr. Watson?” Mycroft turned his gaze back to John. Pinning him in place with a look that meant business. “What if you could have everything you wanted, with my brother, without anything holding you both back?”

“What would I have to do?” John didn't hesitate in his answer. If it meant he could have Sherlock then he would do anything that was asked of him. “IF it will fix this mess with Sherlock then I will do whatever I need to.”

Mycroft's gaze moved from John to Greg then back. “Understand, Dr. Watson, that this is something that took a great deal of thought and planning. It may take a few months to finalize everything...”

“Sherlock may be gone by then, I-I can't wait that long, Mycroft...” John wouldn't let Sherlock slip through his fingers again. He may have married Mary but he was in love with Sherlock and wasn't willing to lose him again.

“Be patient, Dr. Watson, he isn't going anywhere...just yet.” He stiffened before shifting the focus of the conversation. “I will be in touch, Dr. Watson, to let you know of any updates. Other than that, congratulations on your wedding and new baby. Sherlock was most thrilled by the news when we spoke earlier.”

His ice gray gaze had settled behind John and when he turned, he found Mary and Greg standing behind him. “Oh, uh, y-yes, thank you Mycroft. Mary, you remember Mycroft Holmes, don't you? He's Sherlock's older brother.” He gave her a strained smile, his gaze moving between Mycroft and Greg.

“Oh, hello Mr. Holmes. Sherlock has told me about you, not a lot mind you but he has mentioned you once or twice.” Mary said with a serene smile, slowly extending her hand.

Mycroft gave her a polite nod, “Mrs. Watson, it is a pleasure to meet you.” He took the proffered hand and gave it a customary kiss on the back. He glanced up at Greg then back to Mary, his thoughts hidden behind his piercing gaze.

John bit back a nervous giggle, he could have Sherlock and everything they wanted? How and why would Mycroft help? John watched the scene in front of him, detached from the blond woman next to him. He gave her a polite smile as she turned to him and smiled softly. Mycroft had said it may take a few months, he could wait that long for Sherlock. He's waited this long he could wait a little longer, the tall, pale brunette was worth it. “Mycroft came to look for Sherlock but they must have just missed each other.” John glanced at Mycroft then turned to Mary. “I was going to suggest looking for him but didn't want to upset you by my leaving.”

Mary smiled up at him, “No, go ahead. I know how much he means to you and if his brother came all this way...” She turned to Greg and smiled, “What about you Detective Inspector? Will you be helping in the search effort as well?”

Greg nodded, his gaze moving up to Mycroft's and pausing as he saw something there. “I, uh, I'll be helping look for Sherlock as well. He tends to get into more trouble than he should when alone on a case.” He smiled down at Mary, “I'll make sure John is home in no time at all.”

Mary smiled and nodded, turning back to John she gave him a hug and kiss. “I shall see you at home then, Mr. Watson.” She smiled then stepped back. “I'm off to the house, so what if we leave early? Let everyone think that we are ready to go? You can look for Sherlock and still make the plane for our honeymoon.”

John nodded absently, he didn't want to hear anything else from her, he just wanted to leave so he could talk to Sherlock. Leaning forward he gave her a quick buss on the lips. “I'll see you in a few hours then? Hopefully the crazy git hasn't gotten into to much trouble like Greg said. To damn hard to get him out of it after.” He smiled at her then turned to Mycroft, whose gaze seemed to be glued to Greg. “Ready when you are Mycroft.”

Mycroft blinked, then turned to John, “I will meet you both outside. You know which vehicle. Mrs. Watson, again, congratulations on the wedding and impending birth of the baby.” He gave her a small bow and walked away, trying to conceal his inner turmoil about Greg and their current issues.

“There's never been anyone who looks at you like he does, Detective Inspector. He looks like he's lost his best friend or a loved one.” She turned to Greg, a shrewd and calculating look on her face.

John looked at Mary then turned and watched as Mycroft left the reception hall. He hadn't missed the way he had kept his gaze on Greg nor how Greg had done his best not to look at the tall ginger. “He's worried about his brother, Sherlock tends to attract trouble whether he means to or not.” He said with a soft chuckle. He was ready to go, maybe he would get some time with Sherlock before they had to be separated again.

Greg let out an irritated huff but remained silent. He watched Mycroft leave the reception hall, his thoughts on the the other man as he walked away. “Ready John? The sooner we can find Sherlock the sooner you can get back to your beautiful bride.”

John nodded, a frown on his lips but leaned down to give Mary a soft kiss on the cheek. “I'll be back as soon as I can. Don't wait up for me.” He gave her a crooked grin, then turned to follow Greg from the room. As they crossed the reception hall, he glanced back to where Mary had been standing last and noticed she was gone. Shaking his head, he turned back around and left the hall. “Greg, why in the hell is Mycroft here?!” John glanced over at his friend noticing the worry lines creasing his forehead.

Greg frowned, “I don't really know, I mean with Sherlock not here...” Greg paused as a thought hit him. “Do you really think he's in trouble? I mean, that's usually why Mycroft would come look for one of us.”

John shook his head. “No, he came looking for us for a different reason. Said something about being able to be with Sherlock worry free but as we both know nothing is ever free.”

“That's why you said he was looking for Sherlock. After what you found out about Mary...”

“And what happened last night, I can't...there is no way I can lose him again Greg.” John said softly. He took a deep breath as they walked towards the doors leading outside. “Still doesn't explain why Mycroft didn't just call me or have a car pick me up.”

Greg gave him a small smile, “Oh, you know Mycroft, always one for the dramatic.”

“That is not necessarily true Gregory, as we both know. I will leave that particular designation to both John and Sherlock.” The soft, deep voice sounded from Greg's left. “I usually prefer a more subtle approach to things unless they concern my younger brother.” He stepped out of the shadows by the main doors, a small smile playing around his lips.

Greg stopped short as the tall ginger appeared almost out of no where. “Jesus, fuck, My! What the hell is wrong with you stepping out of shadows like that, you could get shot!” He took in the taller man, noticing the tired look in his eyes and the steel set of his jaw.

“I do apologize Gregory, it was not my intent.” Mycroft responded softly. He scanned the tan face in front of him, wanting desperately to take back the words from earlier last night. “Gregory...”

“No...n-not now Mycroft, we can talk later. Let's just get out of here and go find Sherlock.” Greg headed for the car once they were outside, trying to keep his mind off of Mycroft.

John looked between the two, Greg's earlier words running through his head. “Wait, what's going on you two?” He looked at Greg then Mycroft, once they were all seated in the back of the car. “W-where is Sherlock? I thought you said he was at your house Mycroft?”

“Your new wife, Dr. Watson, has made plans to try and kill my brother. It would seem that she see's him as a threat for not only herself but to her boss, Marcus Magnussen, as well.”

John paled, his entire body going cold. “H-he told me she threatened him. That she said if he didn't back off she would make him regret it but he never said...” He turned to Mycroft, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. “If you knew she was going after him why in the hell did you leave him at the bloody house alone?! Why? Why in _bloody hell_ would you play with his life like this?!” John tried to reign in his anger and fear. “Just what _fucking_ right do you have to play with his li...”

“It was _his_ choice, Dr. Watson.” Mycroft interrupted the angry blond. “He said he needed to get her away from you so that you would be safe. Preferring to take on the danger of the situation alone, especially since the woman _you_ married is second in command to Magnussen as well as the only link to Moriarty's right hand, Sebastian Moran. So to save you, yet again, Dr. Watson...”

“He will sacrifice himself for me. H-he never said anything last night, why wouldn't he tell me? W-why would he insist on keeping me in the dark? I could have helped him...” John whispered. He could feel the cold fingers of fear running over his skin as he thought of Sherlock being in danger again. After everything they've gone through to get to this point...

“You're a terrible liar, Dr. Watson and Sherlock did not want you to be put in the position of having to do so.” Mycroft looked at John, his gaze direct and unwavering. “We found out that Moriarty had two people he trusted along with Moran...one had been sent to America while the other had been sent here. We did not know that it was Magnussen until recently. From what Sherlock has told me...”

“He told Mary he knew who she was working for and planned on telling me.” John finished for him. He could imagine the conversation as it went from there. “She plans to kill him...S-sherlock said she told him to back off. That Magnussen will make him regret it...”

“To satisfy some sense of right for Moran, for the death of Moriarty, as well as to preserve her marriage to you.” Mycroft stated softly.

John frowned as he looked away from Mycroft. Glancing down at his watch he sighed, leaning his head against the cool glass of the window. Not only did they have to worry about Mary and Magnussen, they also had to deal with Sebastian Moran, Jim's right hand. Sighing, he closed his eyes trying to relax and release some of the tension from the past forty-eight hours. His mind kept replaying the events from last night and he couldn't help agreeing with Greg. He should have taken Sherlock and just...the thought stopped abruptly when he heard Greg's voice whispering angrily at Mycroft.

“How do you think that's going to work, Myc? If you don't talk to me and tell me what's going on...” Greg started in irritation.

“I was only trying to protect you Gregory. Honestly, I-I thought I was doing the right thing.” Mycroft stated softly. He couldn't look at the other and not wonder who had been flirting with him all night and did he enjoy it. Shaking his head, Mycroft tried not to feed the jealous thoughts in his head but it was difficult, especially given the fact that it was not publicly known that they were actually in a relationship, knowing he had no one to blame but himself for that decision.

“Sometimes Myc, you two have to at least give us the chance to decide for ourselves. You and Sherlock both, you two seem to be under the impression that John and I are complete idiots.” Greg glared at the man next to him. “What is it going to take for you two to understand that we are capable of taking care of ourselves?”

“You are not an idiot Gregory and I dare anyone to say different.” Mycroft stated heatedly. He was sick of hearing that word associated with the graying Detective Inspector. Looking up into warm sienna eyes, Mycroft took a deep breath. “The threat to you and Dr. Watson is very real. Moran is coming for you both...to hurt Sherlock and myself. He blames us for Moriarty's death and he will use you both as a means of retaliation.” Glancing over at John, he noticed the blond looked tired, seeming to have aged in a matter of hours. Turning his gaze back to Greg, he paused. “I do not wish to see anything happen to you, Gregory. It would...I do not believe...” Mycroft broke off with a frustrated sound, a frown curving his lips down. Looking out of the car window, he tried to think of the best way to explain to Greg how he was feeling. Looking back at the man next to him he decided that honesty would be best. The irony of the timing was not lost on Mycroft as he studied the man watching him. “You mean a great deal to me and I would be remiss in my regard towards you if I did not try to make sure that I do not lose you. If protecting you from Moran will give me more time with you, then I will gladly deal with your anger about the situation. I will try not to keep you in the dark but there are somethings that I can not tell you.”

“If it involves me or my people Mycroft I have the right to know.” Greg let out an irritated huff as he tried to hold onto his anger. Sighing, he looked down then back up at Mycroft. “So the phone call last night, that wasn't from Sherlock?”

“No, it was not from Sherlock.”

Greg sighed, that explained a lot then. Mycroft and Sherlock were both known to be overprotective of both John and Greg so if someone had threatened him, Mycroft would have overreacted. “So, uh, why the argument then? Why would you intentionally...”

“They said if I valued your life at all I would distance myself from you. To save you, it would be best if I were to...” Mycroft glanced over at John again then back to Greg, aware that the words spoken to him matched the ones spoken to Sherlock. “They stated it would be best if I backed away from you or Magnussen would make sure I regretted it.”

Greg frowned, “You and Sherlock really should give us the chance to decide if we can handle what's going on or not. It's one thing for you to say I'm not an idiot but it's another to treat me as if I am one. Stop keeping me in the dark Myc, I'm a police detective at NSY for cripes sake! I can handle my own against someone threatening me or those I care about.”

“I did not mean...” Mycroft stopped as he realized he had done exactly what Greg said. Looking at the man next to him, he frowned, hating the fact that he was admittedly guilty. “I truly do apologize Gregory, it was not my intent to...treat you as if you could not handle yourself.” He glanced down at the tan hands in Greg's lap, remembered the feel of them as they had massaged away his stress last night. “I simply wish to maintain your safety.”

Greg sighed, “I know Myc and I appreciate it but it would be nice if you would just talk to me sometimes. You know, give me a chance to actually choose if I do or don't want protection.” Greg glanced over at John, noting that the blond appeared to be sleep. He looked back over at Mycroft, scooting closer to him. “You should have told me last night instead of picking a fight. You ended our night kind of early doing that.”

Mycroft's gaze moved to John then back to the man next to him. “Again, it was not intentional, Gregory.” He could hear the breathless sound of his voice, tried not to move as the heat from Greg slowly wrapped around him. “I-if you would be willing to allow me to correct my error in judgment...”

“Oh, I'm going to allow it, I'm going to allow it because I expect you to make it all up to me. Dinner, movie, the bath...” Greg gave Mycroft his most seductive grin, a small curve of his lips with a tilt at the edges. “I expect you to make it up to me as soon as we...”

Mycroft leaned over and gave Greg a kiss, turning to face him as he reached for him. When he pulled back, he couldn't help the small gasp. “M-maybe we should wait, Gregory, at least until we get to the house?”

Greg nodded, glancing back over at John. “Yeah, we can do that. What do we do about John and Sherlock?”

Mycroft followed his gaze, “Sherlock is staying with me until we can figure out how best to handle the situation. It was by his request that I was at the reception this evening.” Looking away from John, he turned his ice grey gaze back to Greg. “He asked that I find a way to separate John from his new bride for the evening.” He flushed at the knowing look on Greg's face. “I-I merely wish to see my brother happy...” He whispered.

Greg smiled, “You could have just told me Myc, I would have helped.” He whispered back. He frowned at the sleeping blond across from them. “They really should have just eloped and avoided all of this.”

“I agree, yet Sherlock is determined that John be happy and if that means he chooses to be with Mary then he will accept it. However, his emotions are close to the surface this evening and he was most adamant about not seeing him, then wishing to see him and I...”

Greg sighed, “You just couldn't say no.” Greg looked out the window, taking in the manicured lawns behind gated fences and shook his head.

“He is my brother Gregory, I only want to see him happy...” Mycroft repeated softly, pulling Greg closer to him.

Greg shook his head, “You know we need to tell John what the plan is. He deserves to know Sherlock isn't upset with him.”

“He is upset...and hurting but he doesn't seem to want to let go...” Mycroft sighed. He leaned against Greg as he felt a strong arm slide around his waist. “You will stay the night then? I-if it's not to much trouble...I would like it if you would...” He was silenced by a hard kiss and a strong arm around his waist.

Greg grinned as he felt Mycroft press closer to him, pulling back, he whispered, “You still owe me a date night, especially since you started the argument last night.”

“Anything you ask Gregory...”

“I really wish you two would wait until we get to the house, I don't think I could handle it if you were to do more than what you've been doing.” John stated softly, his voice came out in a soft, hoarse tone. Straightening up in his seat, he opened his eyes and looked at the other two occupants in the car. “I mean seriously, how is a bloke supposed to get any rest around here?”

“You will have time to rest Dr. Watson as soon as we arrive at the house.” Mycroft glanced out of the window behind Greg, a small smile playing around his lips. We should be there in the next few minutes, if you wish to let Sherlock know?”

John turned to look out the window and could feel his heart start to pound. Was Sherlock really at Mycroft's? Was he going to want to see him...talk to him? “H-he may no want to see me...” Before he could finish the statement, John was pulling out his phone. Looking down, he noticed he had a message from Sherlock.

_**I love you as well John – SH** _

John flushed at the text, hopeful that things could be fixed somehow. If Sherlock still loved him then maybe they could figure a way out of this mess, together.

_**Mycroft said to inform you that we're pulling up to the house. Will see you shortly – JHW** _

_**Where are you, are you with Mycroft? - SH** _

John wasn't sure how he was supposed to answer the question but knew honesty was the best thing right now.

_**Yes** _

John gripped the phone tightly, wondering what Sherlock would say. Before he could get a response however, they had pulled up to Mycroft's townhouse. John looked up from his phone to the window and froze. Sherlock was standing in the doorway, dressed in a pair of blue lounge pants and his robe. His hair was damp and curled around his face in a manner that made John's fingers twitch. He bit his bottom lip, nervous as to what he was going to say or what he should do. He wanted to get out of the car, grab the taller man and hide some place where no one could find them.

“He is waiting on you, Dr. Watson. If you do not wish to see him...” Mycroft was cut off by John suddenly leaving the car and heading towards Sherlock.


	6. Chapter 6

He'd sent the response to John in a moment of weakness, uncertain of whether he should have done so or not. Sherlock knew there was a chance he wouldn't get a response but in the event that he did...

He was startled from his thoughts by the sound of his phone ringing. He picked it up without looking at the caller ID and answered. “Holmes here...”

_“Did you miss me, Sherlock?”_

Sherlock froze at the sound of that voice. _No..._ Sherlock let out a rough breath. He was dead, he'd seen him take his own life on the rooftop of Bart's. It was just someone messing with his mind again. “You are not real.” He said softly.

_“I'm as real as you are Sherlly-poo. I'm as real as your dear Dr. Watson, your beloved Mrs. Hudson, and your precious D.I. Lestrade.”_ There was the muffled sound of a voice in the background then the voice returned. _“You never listen to any of my warnings.”_ The voice sighed. _“You and your dear doctor, you both don't seem to take hints very easily.”_ There was a moment of silence then a soft rustling.

Sherlock's mind was in a whirl, how was this possible? Mycroft had promised...he paused, thinking about Mary and Magnussen as well as the sudden addition of Moran. Of course... _the threat to John Watson is very real..._ Mary's words floated through his mind... _John Watson is indeed in danger..._ the words whispered to him on the rooftop of Bart's. A shrill giggle jerked Sherlock from his thoughts, sending a chill down his spine.

_“Did you and the dear doctor enjoy yourselves last night Sherlly? I swear, if I had known that that was all it would take to get you to open up to me, I seriously would have tried harder. You know, poor Mary was rather upset about that however, said she had no intentions of giving good ol' Johnny boy up.”_ The giggle, although it sounded like Moriarty, came out forced and breathy. As if someone were trying to imitate it.

Sherlock paled, last night, when he and John...the house had been closed, the shades drawn and the doors locked. The only one who had been in the building besides them had been Mrs. Hudson. “H-How do you...” Mary couldn't possibly know, could she? _I just wanted to let you know that I know all about John's desire to fuck you, of how he wishes it's you while he's fucking me. I know first hand just how much he wants you and I can see you feel the same._ She said she had known then, before anything had happened between them...

That giggle again, _“How do I know? Come, come Sherlock. You should know as well as I that it wouldn't have taken much for a genius to recognize what happened between you two.”_ A pause, then the voice returned, harsher, angry. _“You and your precious brother have something of mine and I want him back! You will either give him back to me within forty-eight hours or I will make sure you never see your dear Dr. Watson and he will never see his precious Detective Inspector after tonight!”_

There was the sound of someone releasing a soft breath, then a cough followed. Who ever it was on the phone they were sick but seemed determined to get their point across. Sherlock glanced down at his screen and frowned when no name or number was displayed. He needed to find John. He needed to find him as well as Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade. Sherlock went through his messages looking for his brothers name when a message from John came through.

_**Mycroft said to inform you that we're pulling up to the house. Will see you shortly – JHW** _

If John were with Mycroft now...

_**Where are you, are you with Mycroft? - SH** _

_**Yes** _

It was answer enough, John was ok for the moment and he could focus on the person on the phone. “Who is it that you are accusing my brother of having in custody?” He would play this game again for as long as he needed to if it would protect those he cared about the most. “And what are you saying happened between myself and Dr. Watson last night?”

The sound of rustling fabric could be heard then the splash of liquid being poured into a glass. _“Tsk, tsk, tsk, Sherlly, Sherlly, Sherlly. Do you really think I would tell you how I found out? As for who your brother has, Sebastian Moran, his people just recently picked him up and I want him back.”_ A deep breath. _“He belongs to me and you two will give him back or I will take everything you both hold precious and dear. I meant it when I said I will burn the heart out of you, Sherlock. Give me back my Sebby and you_ may _be able to keep your dear Dr. Watson. Forty-eight hours Sherlock, I either have him or you will find a body until I do.”_ The call was disconnected just as quickly as it started.

Sherlock was shaking, how could Mycroft not tell him? After all the planning they had just done, how could his brother fail to mention that they had Moran in custody? His thoughts stopped at the sound of a car pulling up to the house. Glancing out the window he realized it was Mycroft. John had said he was with Mycroft...taking the stairs as fast as he could, Sherlock moved to the door, jerking it open. He had to see for himself, needed to make sure that John really was ok. When the car finally stopped in front of the house he held his breath and waited.

When the blond head appeared, Sherlock went weak with relief, his knees giving out as soon as the blond was close enough to touch. “John...” He whispered as he reached for him.

“Sherlock? Jesus, w-what's wrong? Something's happened, I-I can see it in your face.” John grabbed him before he could hit the ground. “T-talk to me Sherlock, you're shaking. What is it?” John looked up into the pale face, taking in the wild, bright ice blue eyes. Sherlock's pupils were dilated and his breathing was faster than normal. “Sherlock, please, I-I can't help if you don...”

“H-he called me. S-said you and Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson were all in danger. H-he said that he would...John, where is Mycroft?” Sherlock, still shaking, took a deep breath, followed by another. His anger at his brother beginning to simmer in his veins.

“S-sherlock, w-what is it? W-who called you?” John wasn't worried about Mycroft so much as he was Sherlock. “Tell me who called you?”

“Sherlock, John? Is everything alright?” Greg's concerned voice came from behind John.

Before anyone could say anything, Sherlock launched himself at Mycroft, fists curled and ready for a fight. His voice an angry growl as they both fell to the floor in a heap of long limbs and clothing. “You promised me Mycroft.” He snarled in his brothers face. “You promised me that you would protect John and you lied!” Sherlock's voice rose. “You lied to me just as you've lied about knowing the whereabouts of Moran! You swore that your people had cleaned the roof of Bart's thoroughly! That there was no way for him to touch John! Yet, _he called me!”_ Sherlock shouted down into his brother's face. His rage and pain covered up his fear and desperation. The plans they made earlier have changed, the additional player they hadn't been counting on now making the situation that more dangerous.

“S-sherlock I did not lie t-to you,” Mycroft gasped. “I swear I do not know about Moran o-or his whereabouts. I've not received anything on my phone for the past hour...”

Greg tried to get Sherlock's attention by agreeing with Mycroft. “He's right Sherlock, we've been in the car this whole time talking. His phone has been silent.”

“Yet he could tell me _you_ have Moran. That _your_ people picked him up and that he wants him back or he will take John from me and Lestrade from you! I will not let him have John, Mycroft...” Sherlock snarled. His anger causing him to shake as he tried to control it.

“He has already taken him from you Sherlock! John is now married to Mary!” Mycroft shouted up into his brothers face. “He belongs to her...”

“John is mine! She tricked him into getting married, with the help of Magnussen a-and... _him_!” Sherlock shouted back.

“Here now, I _am_ standing right here and if I didn't want Sherlock...” John tried to cut in but neither brother acknowledged him.

“If it was Lestrade you would _not_ do this, you would not play with his life in so cavalier a manner!” Sherlock drew back to hit the face in front of him. He wanted to hurt someone or something. He wanted to feel the pain that was associated with a punch, he wanted...

“W-we cleaned the rooftop, I was there personally. Y-you made me promise to do so, his body...”

Greg stepped closer to the two, ready to intervene if needed. “What happened to the body Myc?” He didn't remember seeing a body during the information gathering and clean up. There had only been one body wheeled into the morgue that day and it had been Sherlock. “I don't recall...”

“T-there wasn't one.” Mycroft flinched back from the angry snarl that sounded in front of him. “S-sherlock, l-let me explain...”

“Explain what, Mycroft! You did not find the body yet you let me believe that John was safe...that Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade where safe! You swore to me I had nothing to worry about as I went after the rest of Moriarty's people!” Sherlock tried to control his temper but his emotions were all over the place. Fear that he could lose John for real this time and anger that he hadn't thought to make sure that all lose ends had been taken care of himself.

“Sherlock?” John looked at the tense back of the brunette. “W-what else did he say?” He wouldn't say his name unless necessary, he didn't want to trigger anything worse than what was already happening now. When Sherlock refused to look at him he tried again. “Sherlock, tell me...”

“Last night...” Came the harsh tone. A tensing of his back muscles and a slight tremor were the only indication that he was affected by the words. “H-he told me he knew...t-that Mary...”

“Oh, God...ohgodohgod...then s-she knew before...when I-I arrived back at the flat...t-the baby...”

“Could quite possibly, _not_ be real.” Sherlock said softly.

“No...nonono. T-that would mean s-she...” John paled as he took in the implications of what everything now meant.

“That would mean she did it on purpose, mate.” Greg said softly. His gaze still on Mycroft and Sherlock. “You said she wasn't who we thought she was.” Greg glanced over at John then back at the two brothers who were still glaring at each other. “Sherlock, at least let Mycroft stand up. Give him a chance to explain, yeah?”

Sherlock wanted to ignore the statement. He wanted to punch Mycroft for how he was feeling but he knew he couldn't. He couldn't fully blame Mycroft for this when he should have done his part and checked the body. He should have made sure before he jumped that Moriarty was dead, that John was safe. He moved from his position over Mycroft and watched as he stood up, his ice blue gaze never leaving the ice gray one.

“Sherlock, I swear to you I did everything in my power to protect everyone, just as you asked. Dr. Watson, Mrs. Hudson, a-and Gregory. I made sure that there was someone with them at all times...”

“Hold it, eh? What exactly do you mean with us at all times?” Greg turned his dark gaze on Mycroft. “You were having us followed and didn't say anything?”

“Not exactly, following, I-I wanted to be sure that nothing happened to anyone, so I had security around you i-if they were needed.” Mycroft looked at Greg, hoping he would understand if no one else did.

“Not that I fully agree with the method, it does make some sense however.” John said softly. “Not that _you_ made it any better, you crazy git, by not telling anyone what was going on!” John looked at Sherlock. “Now would you _please_ , calm down and talk to us, yeah? There's a lot going on and right now we need to go over as much of it as possible.”

“You are getting an annulment.” Sherlock said roughly. He refused to let John remain married to a murderer. “As soon as we can clear this up.” He turned his gaze to John, a small frown on his face. “Admittedly, I am unwilling to wait, however considering the current situation and who all is involved...”

“An annulment will be next to impossible without valid reason, especially since you two just got married.” Greg ignored the angry sound from Sherlock and continued. “We all know it's not next to impossible because a divorce can get messy and if Mary _is_ by chance pregnant and you two haven't...” Greg paused as he turned to look at John.

“That would mean she was cheating on me either before or after we said our vows.” John kept his gaze on Sherlock. “Sherlock, how, uh, h-how long will this take this time?”

Sherlock tried to ignore the flare of anger that flashed through him at the question. He and Mycroft had already made plans to deal with Moran, Magnussen, and Mary but now they would have to adjust them to deal with Moriarty...again. “I honestly do not know John.” He wanted to give him a definitive time frame but knew it wasn't possible. “We had not counted on there being an extra player in the situation.” He sighed as he felt his anger slowly drain away, leaving him feeling hollow and exhausted. He just wanted to be rid of everything and everyone, take John and hide away until they chose to rejoin the world.

“Sherlock?” Mycroft took a small step closer. “You do not... _w-we_...do not have to do this alone. John and Gregory are capable of doing their part to help end this once and for all.” Mycroft wasn't willing to have a repeat of what happened with Bart's. Sherlock had been gone for almost three years...three years where at one point and time he had lost track of him. Until Anthea had finally tracked him to Serbia... “We should have allowed them to help before...”

“Myc, your phones vibrating.” Greg looked down at the floor where the handset lay. He leaned down, picking it up, he answered, “Hold on here he goes.”

“Holmes here.” Mycroft flushed at the grin on Greg's face as he answered the phone. Blinking, he turned to the voice on the other end. “I, oh, uh, y-yes it was.” Shaking his head he glanced back at Greg, a small smile playing across his lips then turned and headed towards his study. He paused to look back at Sherlock, “I was just informed of the information first hand. It would seem Sherlock was told before I was.” When his gaze met his brothers, he turned and walked into the study.

“I'll find out what's going on with Moran.” Greg looked between Sherlock and John. “You two need to talk things out.” Greg nodded at both men then turned and headed in the same direction as Mycroft.

“You will have to continue on with her as if nothing has happened. At least until this has all been sorted out properly this time.” Sherlock said softly, his gaze not meeting John's. He couldn't look him in the eyes and say to him what needed to be said. “H-he will be watching for a chance to...”

“I don't care if he will be watching! I don't know if I can do this Sherlock. N-not after everything...h-how am I supposed to go back to her, knowing what it's doing to you?” John moved closer to the tall brunette. “Tell me Sherlock, how am I supposed to handle seeing what this will do to you?!”

“The same way that you handled it when you married her the very next day after you spent the night with me.” The words were out of his mouth in an angry rush before he could stop them. Sherlock closed his eyes, wishing he could take them back but knew that it was to late. “I-I am sorry, I-I did not mean...”

“No...no i-it's ok, you have every right to be upset with me. I didn't exactly, uh, handle things properly, now did I?” John sighed. They needed to talk about what happened, how it changed things, and everything going on now. “I tried to find you b-before the ceremony Sherlock. I went back to the flat an hour early just so I didn't miss you but you...” John took a deep breath, this was not the conversation he'd wanted to have with Sherlock but it seemed to be the one the pale brunette wanted to start with. “You weren't there, I'd tried calling and texting you but you never responded.” John tried to control his anger and frustration but could hear it spilling into his words. “I even arrived at the church early looking for you. Just where the _bloody_ hell were you Sherlock?” He kept his blue gaze on the silent brunette in front of him, waiting for an answer.

“S-she called while you were sleeping. I-I didn't answer but then the messages started, shortly after you left. Reminders that you were in danger and that I could very well lose you.” The earlier argument with Mycroft played through his mind.

_He will take John from me and Lestrade from you! I will not let him have John, Mycroft..._

_He has already taken him from you Sherlock! John is now married to Mary! He belongs to her..._

_John is mine!_

“Y-you belong with her now, John.” The words hurt to say, to know that despite how he felt, Mycroft was right, John did belong to Mary. He needed to convince him of that, for his own safety. “Whether you wish to admit it or not, she is the only one keeping you alive.”

John jerked back, “B-but you just said...” He stared at Sherlock in confusion. The conversation was turning in a different direction than he had originally hoped. It didn't escape his notice that Sherlock never answered his question but he let it slide to deal with the current situation. “D-do you,” John took a deep breath as he reached a hand out for the man in front of him. “H-have your feelings already changed for me?” He could see the trembling in his hand, could feel the tremor move across his body as he waited for an answer. “Is that...is that why you're pushing me to her? Y-you no longer...” John stopped, afraid to say the words.

“No...John, they have not changed...” Sherlock started softly.

“Then why are you pushing me away? Why are you insisting that I go back to her and pretend that everything is alright when we bloody well know it's not!”

“Because _you_ married her John. You took vows, for better or for worse, you can not leave her now.” Sherlock looked up into the tan face he loved. Could feel his stomach clench and his heart pound. “Y-you chose her, John a-and right now, whether we like it or not, it is the only thing still keeping you alive.” Looking away, he continued. “If it will save you then what other option is there? We have to think about what's best for everyone invol...”

“Everyone involved?! This involves you and me, Sherlock! You left me once, for three bloody years I mourned you and now...now you expect me to go through with a madman's scheme...” John's voice rose along with his temper as he glared at the brunette in front of him.

“Yes! To save not only your life but that of Mrs. Hudson and DI Lestrade! There are more than two people involved in this John, there always has been!” Sherlock shouted back, his anger, pain, and hurt surging forward. He took a step towards the angry blond, taking in the hard set of his jaw, the thin line of his lips, the fear and desperation in his eyes. “You have to think of the other people involved, John. I do love you, that has not changed but if I have to pretend otherwise to make sure you are safe then that is what I will do.”

“H-how do you expect me to do the same Sherlock? I can't...I'm not like you, I don't know how to just...shut off how I feel for you.” John looked at him, silently wished for another way out of this than going back to Mary. “I can't tonight. I can't go back and pretend that I don't know I'm sleeping next to someone who may or may not have helped torture you. She's done enough to keep us apart already.”

Sherlock wanted to tell him there was no other choice but selfishly he wanted one more night with John. One more night of memories for when John left and he would return to 221B...alone. He knew he should have told John to leave, that despite what he wanted and how he felt, he should have sent John back to Mary but the words never left his mouth. Instead, Sherlock stepped forward, reached up slowly and framed John's face with his hands. Taking a shaky breath, he asked John softly. “Stay the night with me then...”

John grabbed Sherlock and kissed the rest of the sentence into silence. The fact that he asked was enough for him. Desperation, fear, love, and need coursed through him, they could talk about everything later. The only thing that mattered right now was being alone with Sherlock as quick as possible. “W-what about your brother and Greg? S-shouldn't we...” John glanced down the hallway leading to the study.

“I don't believe he would mind some time alone with Lestrade, just as I would prefer some time alone with you.” Sherlock tried to hold back the flush that heated his face but knew he couldn't. “I understand I should send you back to her but...” He took a deep breath, and looked into the blue eyes he loved to drown in. “But I do not wish to be alone tonight.”

John grabbed him around the waist and pulled him closer. “H-how about you show me your room then?” John asked softly. If this was to be their last night for a while he wanted it to be good for them both. “We will figure everything out in the morning.”

Sherlock's hands tightened around John's face as he nodded his agreement. One more night before they would have to be separated again. He would take what was being offered from the blond in front of him and pretend that just for tonight, the devil was not yet again after them.


	7. Chapter 7

John looked up into the normally pale face, now covered in a light pink flush.“I love you, Sherlock.” John whispered against his lips. They were supposed to be making their way upstairs but kept getting distracted by kisses, soft touches, and exploratory caress, leaving them both panting and wanting. John had Sherlock pressed against the wall, half way up the stairs. With a leg between Sherlock's and a hand around his waist, John held Sherlock there as he pressed down. “Look at you, god Sherlock you're absolutely gorgeous like this.” John pressed a ring of kisses and bites across Sherlock's neck, loving the way the pale skin would turn a darker pink from the marks he left. He loved the shiver that moved through the pale body, loved hearing the soft moan that left his throat. John pressed closer, making sure to keep the pressure of his leg against the brunette grinding against him. “Y-you can still say no, Sherlock.” John groaned, praying he wouldn't.“Tell me what it is you want, love.”

Sherlock moaned helplessly as he pressed down against John's leg. He couldn't help the shiver that raced down his spine, as pleasure spread through out his body. “John...” He gasped. He could hear him talking and struggled to focus on what he was saying. Sherlock shook his head no at the question, his hands finding the tan face in front of his and kissing the mouth before him. He moaned as the hands on his waist tightened, pulling him closer. They both jerked in surprise at the sound of someone clearing their throat...loudly. Sherlock couldn't focus enough to say anything, so he trusted John to figure it out and give a response.

“What the _bloody hell_ do you want, Mycroft.” John panted. He was trying to still the moving brunette pressed against him but was failing miserably. “Sherlock...” John whispered. “It's your brother...n-no, damnit don't do that...” John groaned as Sherlock pulled him closer, his hips still moving against John's leg.

“S-sod off, Mycroft.” Sherlock gasped. He pressed his face against John's neck, trying to figure out the best way to get them upstairs, undressed, and in bed.

“When you're both done...manhandling...each other, Gregory and I would like to see you in the kitchen.” Mycroft said softly. His gaze swept over the figure of his brother wrapped around John. Shaking his head, he gave them both one last glance before walking away, his thoughts turning to a certain Detective Inspector currently sitting in his study.

John gripped the slim waist, his hands tightening to slow the other down. “S-sherlock, wait...” John moaned. He needed to get them upstairs and into the bedroom as fast as possible or they'd end up on the stairs getting each other off. “W-we need to get up stairs, sweetheart.” He couldn't help but slide his hands up the brunettes sides and around to his back, loving the way the muscles flexed beneath his touch. He leaned up and kissed the bow shaped mouth in front of him, relearning the taste of the man pressed against him. He groaned, as his hands moved restlessly over the pale body. “God, Sherlock...”

They probably would have made it to the bedroom but Sherlock was to impatient to feel John. To have him completely, even if it was only for a few hours. He pulled at John's clothes, pushing the black tuxedo jacket off broad shoulders and reaching for the buttons on his vest, undoing them as well. He vaguely heard what his brother had said but couldn't bring himself to care right then. “John, please...I need...”

John let out a soft huff of laughter. “I know what you need and I plan to give it to you.” He looked up into the dilated eyes and made a decision. If this was going to be their last night for a while, he wanted it to be good.

“Hey, you two, uh, sorry to interrupt but we need to get all of this ironed out as soon as possible.” Greg spoke up softly from his position at the bottom of the stairs. When Mycroft had come back to the study alone, he'd decided to try and see if he could get the couple to join them in the kitchen for a few minutes. “I swear, once we get all of this taken care of you two will be left alone.”

John groaned, “Give us a few mate and we'll be right there.” He could hear the soft rumble of disagreement from Sherlock. “Tell Mycroft this bloody well better not last all night, yeah?” John looked at Greg over his shoulder, a hand holding Sherlock still by the waist, the other hidden in the folds of Sherlock's robe.

“I'll let him know, meet you in ten then, yeah?” Greg grinned at the glare John sent him and walked away.

“For the love of!” John snarled. He looked up into the flushed face above him. “This is going to have to work for now.” He muttered, reaching up, John pulled Sherlock's head down toward his and kissed him deeply, sliding a hand under the waist band of his pants. “This isn't what I had in mind, sweetheart but it's the best I can do for now.” He couldn't help his breathless tone in the face of the moan that left Sherlock. His head has thrown back and his eyes closed as his hips moved with John's hand. “You're so, _fucking beautiful_ , Sherlock.” John whispered, watching the man pressed against him.

Sherlock tried to drag air into his lungs as John moved his hand up, then down his cock, squeezing gently at the tip. He could feel the heat spilling through him as he gasped in pleasure. “J-john...” He stammered, he was so close, all he needed was that extra push, that extra _something,_ that only John could give him. “Please...John, I can't...” Sherlock wanted to tell him he couldn't wait, that he needed him to ease the tight string that held him in one place.

“I love you, Sherlock, don't you _ever_ forget that. No matter what happens, I will _always_ _love_ _you_.” John whispered fiercely. He could see Sherlock was close, could tell that all he needed was a push to fall over the edge. “Come on, Sherlock, let me see you.” John panted. “Show me...show me, love, I want to see, so badly.” John couldn't hide the pleased grin at the groan that left the bow shaped lips. He reveled in the fact that he was the one to do this for him, the only one to get to see Sherlock in this state. “That's it sweetheart, come for me, Sherlock, come for me, love.”

Sherlock couldn't help the small, desperate sounds leaving his throat. He felt John's hand speed up and tighten around his cock, the pressure building until all he could do was stiffen in response. He wrapped his arms around John's shoulders, curving shaky fingers into his skin. “John...” He whispered, he couldn't think, only feel as the orgasm started at the base of his spine and spread outward. Sherlock thrust his hips in time with the hand stroking him, his breathing became erratic as he pulled John closer. “I-I love you, John, love you...” Sherlock chanted as he fell over the edge, his body twisted against John as he thrust his hips forward, pressing up sharply as the wave crested and broke, leaving him gasping and exhausted. He groaned weakly as John's hand continued to stroke him slowly, causing small shivers to run up and down his spine.

“Mycroft better make this fast.” John mumbled. He kissed Sherlock, softly, sweetly, tasting his tall, pale, detective. He would never get enough of him, no matter what, he would always crave Sherlock. “Let's get you cleaned up and then go see what else your brother wants from us.” He chuckled at Sherlock's frown, nipping at his chin. “Don't complain, the sooner we get this over with the sooner we can go back to doing what we were doing.”

Sherlock panted softly, trying to get his heart rate and breathing back under control. A small frown curved his lips down. “I don't feel like dealing with anything else, John.” He knew he sounded petulant and childish but he wanted as much time alone with John as possible. “Our time will be even shorter dealing with what ever it is Mycroft wishes to discuss _now_.” He huffed in irritation.

John chuckled as they made their way back down the stairs and to the closest bathroom. John gently pushed Sherlock into the small room and waited outside as he cleaned up. “Either way, we'll still have some time. Which is better than nothing, I suppose.” John sighed. He knew he was going to hate all of this but would go along with whatever Sherlock came up with anyway.

Sherlock cleaned himself off, frowning at the flush still covering his face, the over bright eyes and swollen lips. He raised a hand to his mouth and smiled, John was the reason it was so red. Sighing softly, he let his head drop as he braced himself against the sink. This was going to be worse than when he'd gone after Moriarty's circle. He was going to actually have to _see_ John with Mary. Pretend that he was ok with everything, that it wasn't killing him to see the man he loved with someone else.

“If it will make you feel better,” John said softly. “I'm not to sure I'm going to be able to handle any of this very well. I'm already jealous of anyone who'll get any time with you.” John laid a hand gently on Sherlock's back. “This isn't going to be easy for either of us. I wish there were another way...”

“But there isn't, John.” Sherlock broke in softly. “Not right at this moment. He has us in a situation that is only going to get more complicated.” Lifting his head, Sherlock's gaze met John's in the mirror. He could see the fear of losing him as well as his love for him, reflected in the sky blue depths.

“I will not lose you, Sherlock. No matter what, I won't go through that again, if you leave I'll be going with you.” John's hand curled around Sherlock's robe. “I love you, more than anything, so don't go getting any ideas of leaving and not telling me this time.” John tried to hide the fear and desperation he was feeling. He knew that what ever they were going to go through, it was going to test the strength of their bond.

Sherlock continued to stare at the reflection in the mirror. They both looked tired, exhausted in ways others would never know. “You'll think me the devil by the end of all of this John.” Sherlock said softly. He knew what needed to be done, who he would need to contact in order to pull the maniacal Moriarty from his hiding place. He knew that it was going to hurt John, the plan that he was running through in his mind. Looking at the short, blond, ex army doctor, Sherlock gave him a sad smile. “I'll always love you but I fear that my actions may kill your love for me.”

“Never, Sherlock. There's nothing you can say or do that would make that possible. Don't forget you disappeared for three years without telling me.” John sighed, his shoulder's dropping with the sound. “I know this is going to be difficult but we will make it through this.” John gave Sherlock's reflection a small smile. He couldn't resist wrapping his arms around the slim waist. “Come on, I'm sure your brother is wondering what's taking us so long. We told Greg ten minutes and I'm sure it's past that.”

Sherlock straightened, placing a hand over John's, he took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. He knew this would be the final battle, the last time he would let himself willingly be parted from John. “Hopefully he has something to eat.” He flushed at John's chuckle. “I-I forgot to eat today...”

“I'm sure you did, well, come on then let's see what's in the kitchen.” John pulled away slowly, not surprised when his stomach rumbled as well. “Looks like we both need to eat.” He reached for Sherlock's hand, threading their fingers together. “We will make it through this Sherlock. No matter what, we will get through this together.”

Sherlock nodded as he followed John out of the bathroom and towards the kitchen. He didn't offer an answer to John's soft spoken statements. He knew that he would do what ever he had to in order to make sure John was safe. He could hear Mycroft's words whispering through his mind palace. _You and I both know, Sherlock, that it does us no good to have feelings, they do nothing but get in the way of our work._ Sherlock tightened his hold on John's hand, pulled him towards him before they entered the kitchen and gave him a slow, sweet kiss. “I love you, John, no matter what happens, please, never forget that.”

John looked up at Sherlock, his stomach twisting in knots. His heart was racing as he watched the man he loved slowly become a stranger. He felt the small squeeze of Sherlock's hand as he slowly pulled away. John watched, as Sherlock once again seemed to move beyond his reach.


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning, Sherlock opened his eyes to a note and a new violin bow on the pillow next to him. Sighing, he stared at the paper rolled around the bow. A small smile curved his lips as he reached for the paper, sitting up, he decided to read the note John had left. Uncurling the sheets from around the bow, Sherlock laid them out on his lap, smoothing the pages gently. He imagined he could see John writing this, starting and stopping as he tried to find the right words to express his feelings. He ran his fingers absently over the bow as he read the two page letter, smiling when he reached the end. John had been less than pleased about the tentative plans they had made but was willing to let Mycroft and Sherlock make the decisions. He sighed as he remembered the call he had to make, he knew John was not going to agree with this part of the plan. So he hadn't mentioned it to him, opting to wait until he got back from his honeymoon. By then, Sherlock will have moved forward with the only original part that he and Mycroft were in some type of agreement on.

Sherlock jerked at the sound of a knock on the door. Frowning slightly, he left the bed, looking for his robe and finding it on the floor by the door. He tried to hold back the flush as he remembered how it had ended up there. Reaching for the door knob, he opened the door and wasn't surprised to see Mycroft standing on the other side. “Mycroft.” Sherlock said softly, raising an eyebrow in silent question.

“I wondered if you would be up for a talk this morning, brother. There is still one part of this that we need to discuss.” Mycroft noticed the dark smudges under Sherlock's eyes, the small bites and bruises that were displayed between the open folds of his robe. He would not begrudge his brother his happiness but that did not mean he wasn't worried about him. “Are you sure this is the only way, Sherlock?” He waited until Sherlock had motioned him into the room before asking him any further questions. “Are you absolutely certain, you're ready for John to know...”

“He will have to find out eventually Mycroft and I won't keep hiding them from him. They deserve to know just as much as John does.” Sherlock interrupted as he turned from the door and headed to the bathroom. “I'll be with you in a moment Mycroft, then we can discuss this.” Sherlock picked up the clothes John had laid out before he left, smiling sadly at the fact that he wouldn't be doing it for a while. He walked into the bathroom, turned the shower on and stepped in. He was relieved that his brother wasn't being his normally overbearing, know-it-all self.

By the time Sherlock had finished with his morning absolutions, Mycroft had a small tray set up and waiting. “I was unsure as to whether you had eaten anything since last night. I hope you do not mind tea for breakfast?” Mycroft lifted his gaze from the newspaper he held, looking up at Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded his head, “Tea is fine. I assume Lestrade has already left, if you are here wanting to discuss business.” He reached for the silver lid and lifted it, revealing a variety of fruits, cheeses, and crackers. All of which were Sherlock's favorite's. “How did you...”

“Dr. Watson left a note of the things you do and do not like to eat. He was very specific that it be followed and that if there were any deviations from it, we were to contact him...immediately.” Mycroft stated dryly. “And yes, Gregory left with Dr. Watson this morning.”

Sherlock shook his head, turning back to the tray of food. He filled a small plate with some fruits, two slices of cheese, and a small cup of tea. “Have you contacted her yet?” He sat down in the chair opposite Mycroft, settling in for a long talk.

If Mycroft was surprised at Sherlock's lack of a fight, he didn't show it. “Anthea has informed me that she will be arriving tomorrow evening. Is there anything specific we need to do? Will he be traveling with her?” Mycroft looked at Sherlock, his expression guarded.

“Seeing as I have yet to speak with her, I would not know if he would or would not be traveling with her. I do not believe that there will be any extra requirements though, she will more than likely stay with her father.” Sherlock picked up a slice of cheese and chewed it slowly, thinking. “Do you know where she has been or what she has been doing lately?”

Mycroft leaned over to the side of his chair and picked up a brown folder. “From what we could find out, she was recently in Serbia helping out a friend. She was at her mothers over the holidays and had just returned. Other than that, you know as well as I, that if she doesn't want us to know...”

“Then we won't and she will be arriving tomorrow? Has John a-and Mary already left?” Sherlock asked the last question softly.

“They left this morning, Gregory dropped them off at the airport. You do understand that you do not have to do this, Sherlock. We can always call her back...”

“Emilie is the only way, Mycroft, _this_ is the only way. She has to be here and the story established by the time John and Mary get back.” Sherlock looked at Mycroft, his gaze serious and direct. “The reaction of everyone involved must be genuine and that includes John and his new wife. Don't you think I've tried to come up with different ways to go about this? I've tried to figure out another way but she knows Moran almost as well as Mary, if not better. If we are needing to get close to him, Emilie would be the one to do it.” Sherlock took a sip of tea, frowning at the lack of sweetness and added more sugar. “You never did confirm whether you had Moran in custody or not.”

Mycroft's gaze narrowed as he watched Sherlock stir the extra sugar in his tea. “It was not Moran but someone claiming to be him. He was a distraction for something else, what, we do not know as of yet.”

Sherlock shook his head as he opened the folder and read the information there. Most of it he already knew, what Sherlock was looking for was something specific. Something that most people would overlook. “Where is it?” Sherlock mumbled. Then he saw it, in the middle of the fourth page third row from the bottom. “Did Anthea say if Emilie was willing to bring him to London?” Sherlock flipped through a set of pictures until he found the one he was looking for. He smiled at the face looking back at him then looked up at his brother.

“Are you sure you want to do that, Sherlock?” Mycroft couldn't hide his look of surprise. “Explaining why Emilie is here will be difficult enough, do you really want to add him to the equation?”

Sherlock let out an angry huff. “Emilie is a friend, Mycroft, and Sherringford is her son... _my_ son...and I can't keep them hidden forever. Even if the bastard that hurt her deserved far more than what he got. I will not hurt them any more than they've already been hurt and John knows how I feel about him.” Sherlock paused, his confidence at his next statement wasn't as high as he wanted Mycroft to believe. “He will understand once I explain the situation to him.”

Mycroft wanted to argue the point with Sherlock but knew it would be fruitless. “If Sherringford does arrive with Emilie, would you like to take him by mummy's?” At Sherlock's surprised look, he gave him a small smile. “He may be your son on paper but we both know that your abusive ex is the father. Mummy has a right to know but only if that is what you want as well.”

Sherlock shook his head, “She does not have to be put through that. She does not need to know he was a lying, cheating, rapist. Sherringford already knows me as his father, it would be easier to keep things as they are. Mummy does not need to know anymore than she already does.” Sherlock didn't look up at Mycroft's soft sound of discontent. “We both know how she would react, Mycroft. It would be better to avoid all the theatrics and continue on as we have been since we told her four years ago.”

Mycroft sighed, he knew Sherlock was right as far as their mother went. “Very well Sherlock, I will follow your lead on this. Do you have any ideas as to how you will introduce Emilie to everyone?”

“Not as of yet, I'll wait until she arrives and then we can discuss everything at length. Right now, I just want to eat and go back to bed if you don't mind.” Sherlock closed the file and laid it on the table between them. “Who is picking her up from the airport?”

“Anthea was going to take a car to meet her. Would you prefer that she come here or 221B?” Mycroft asked, as he stood up from his chair.

Sherlock looked down at the tea cup in his hand, frowning. “Here, I have no plans to return to 221B at the moment. That is, if you do not mind, I understand that things between you and Lestrade...”

“Is of no concern of yours right now, brother, and you know you are welcome here for as long as you wish to stay. Gregory and I will help you as well, if you need it...”

“I will,” Sherlock interrupted his brother softly. “I'll need your help with this once again. To end this for good this time and to do that I will need all the help I can get. Moriarty is determined to make life hell for us and I can not do this alone, not again. When you arrived in Serbia...” Sherlock shivered. His nightmares had almost been crippling once he'd been rescued and brought back to London. The only saving grace he had was the fact that his family was safe and alive. “I didn't think I was going to make it out alive and...” Sherlock looked at Mycroft. “It was hell, Mycroft, the pain and torture I could handle. It meant nothing to me, it wasn't until they threatened John and Sherringford, t-the constant litany of how they were definitely in danger, a collage of pictures of them going about their everyday lives. It was hell, Mycroft, pure and simple and the only angels I had in this hell were being threatened. They were being watched and I couldn't do anything to save them.” Sherlock said softly. He watched as Mycroft tried to control the emotions that raced across his face. “The nightmares started after I got back...”

“After you found out about John and Mary.” Mycroft tried to control the anger and pain that pulsed through him. He hadn't been aware his nephew was being watched or had been threatened. He was angry at himself for not having thought to check on him and his mother. He hadn't known about everything Sherlock had gone through either, partly because he had refused to talk about it...until now.

“It was silent...empty. They would leave me in a room for days with no sound or light or food and water. Then they would play videos of Ford playing at school, John walking to work, Lestrade at a crime scene, or Mrs. Hudson visiting her friends. They had a photo of you leaving a meeting as well, said it was there for kicks. Then they would loop the video and add sound.” Sherlock took a deep breath, his heart racing with his anxiety. “The sound was always the worse, to hear Ford laughing with his friends or Lestrade yelling orders. To hear how hurt and lost John sounded...how broken he looked. They told me what they would do to everyone, it was just a game for them but for me...for me it was real.”

“I never knew Sherlock, you never...why would you not tell me?” Mycroft sat back down in the chair opposite his brother. “I wish I had found you sooner. Maybe it would be wise if Emilie brought Sherringford here. He is due for a holiday, is he not?” Mycroft could see the light slowly returning back to his brothers eyes. “It's been a while since you last saw him. This would be good for you both and you still have the ability to make sure he is safe as well. I can have Anthea ask Emilie before she gets here, this would be good for you right now.” Mycroft studied his younger brother, usually it was something Sherlock wouldn't allow and Mycroft wouldn't indulge in but Sherlock had changed. He looked much older than thirty-two and he looked tired, in a way that he should never have...if Mycroft had done his job. Clearing his throat, Mycroft straightened his shirt. “Yes, well, Sherlock you need to rest, get some sleep.”

Sherlock nodded, “I won't be able to sleep but I will rest some. I need to go over some things so I'll be thinking.”

“Very well, I will leave you to your thoughts brother. If you need me I will be in my study.” Mycroft stood up from his chair and walked to the door. He paused before turning the handle. “Sherlock, you do understand that this time, we can not let any of them live?”

Sherlock nodded, “Agreed, there is far to much at stake this time.” Sherlock's thought's turned to John. _I love you, Sherlock._ He could still hear the soft whisper before John had left this morning. “We have far more to lose this time Mycroft, more than just our reputations. There is more at stake than the Queen and country. This is our lives and the lives of those we love. Our obligation is now to family...”

“Family will always come first Sherlock, no matter what. Try and get some rest, I will let you know when Emilie has arrived.” Mycroft opened the door and quietly left the room.

Sherlock sighed as he looked down at the folder on the table. He would have to think of a plausible reason for not telling her sooner, as well as not telling John. How he was going to explain Sherringford and Emilie to John, he didn't know yet but he knew that once his blond blogger returned, there was going to be hell to pay.


	9. Chapter 9

_That bow shaped mouth...those long, pale fingers..._ John held back a moan as his hand moved over his cock. He'd woken up hard and aching, his body wanting someone who wasn't there but haunted him in his sleep. So his dreams had started taking over, becoming more graphic the longer they were in Paris. He could remember the feel of Sherlock's hands on him, the small moans and gasps that had left Sherlock as John had thrust harder into his hot, welcoming body. Their last night had been more than John had deserved from Sherlock, more than he had expected, and everything he'd ever wanted. He'd never forget the way Sherlock had begged him to come, to just take him apart and...

“ _Oh god! John have you seen the news?!_ ” Mary's voice interrupted John's musings. She was laying on the bed in their hotel room and had been idly watching the news when a picture of a blond Sherlock and a blond woman popped up on the screen. When she read the caption she gasped. “ _John, come quick! You simply must see this!_ ”

Jerking, John chocked back a frustrated groan. _He was so close!_ Deciding to ignore Mary for the moment, John moved his hand over his cock again, this time faster. He gasped as his fingers slowly tightened, his hips moving forward, he let the images playing in his head lead him...tease him...as he tried not to moan out loud. Thankfully, the shower was running so that muffled most of the sound. Still, it was difficult for John to be completely quiet. The memory of how Sherlock had tightened around him as he'd come was teasing the edges of John's sanity. Head dropping back, John leaned an arm out, hand pressed, open palmed, against the cool tiles of the shower wall. His hand tightened around his aching member as he remembered that _voice_...those _words_...the _look_ on Sherlock's face...

_“John...” Sherlock gasped against his neck. “John...please...”_

_John had growled deep in his throat, loving the sounds of the man beneath him. How wrecked his voice had become as he tried to hold off his orgasm. “Don't fight it Sherlock, let it flow, love.” He could feel the way Sherlock tightened around him. His body shaking as he fought his way to the edge. “That's it...god you're just...Sherlock...”_

_“John,” Sherlock moaned. His body arched up as his thighs tightened around John's hips. John loved the broken whimper that left his bow shaped mouth. Thrusting harder, John adjusted his position and was rewarded with a low, keening sound. Grinning, John knew he must have found the spot he was looking for. He could feel Sherlock trembling, his breath leaving him in small, shivery gasps._

_“J-John, please...I don't think...I-I can't wait...” John leaned down and stopped the stammering brunette. Kissing him gently as he thrust harder, pushing deeper into him. When Sherlock's arms tightened around him, John knew...he knew that he would never forget this night. Knew, when Sherlock turned his head for air, that he would always love him. Just as he knew, when Sherlock moaned his name one final time...that breathless moan that shot electricity all the way from the tip of John's toe's straight to the end of his cock. Making him thrust harder, pressing deeper as he groaned in satisfaction. John knew that no matter what, he would fight to keep this man and his love, fight to never lose him again._

_It had taken two more thrusts and a sharp bite on his neck from Sherlock, for John to finally fall over the edge. He hadn't been able to control his hips or the words that had left his mouth. The image of Sherlock in the throes of his orgasm had been permanently burned into his brain. They way the dark head had fallen back against the pillows, the ice blue color of his eyes were thin rings around his pupils, and his mouth...that beautiful, sinfully gorgeous mouth...was slightly parted as the most beautiful sounds left from between them. John committed it all to memory as he pressed his hips as close to Sherlock's as he could get. Shaking and shivering uncontrollably as he emptied himself into the body beneath him...the body of the man he loved..._

Groaning, John slowly sank to his knees as he tried to calm his racing heart and catch his breath. Slowly, he forced his hand to relax its grip on his cock before letting out a soft groan. He could hear Mary still calling his name from the bedroom. “Yeah, j-just a minute. What's so bloody important anyway?!” He shouted back.

“ _You will need to come see for yourself!_ ” Was the only answer shouted back at him.

Turning the water off, John couldn't help grumbling in irritation. After drying off, John grabbed a towel for his hair and pulled on his bathrobe. Walking into the bedroom from the bathroom, a small frown on his face, John looked at Mary. “What's happened, everything alright?”

“The news, John look! Sherlock is engaged!” Mary crowed. She knew where John had spent their wedding night. The flimsy lie of going to find Sherlock hadn't fooled her one bit. She had seen the small love bites across his back and chest, they had even marked the inside of his right thigh. Mary hadn't been upset though, she would let them have that night. The bigger picture was what she was after. Now that Sherlock was engaged, she could work on regaining John's affections. Despite her past, she truly did care for John. He was the first man she had met in a long time that made her feel like a woman should. She looked over to gauge his reaction to the news on the TV and tried to hide her satisfied smile. The hurt anger he struggled so hard to hide was beginning to show through. “Isn't this the best news? So, when we get back we'll be able to help plan a wedding!” She clapped her hands together in false glee.

John felt as if the ground had fallen out from under him. Sherlock was engaged? When did this happen? Who was the blond woman and why hadn't he told John? Taking a deep breath, John tried to push down the feeling of hurt betrayal as he fought to give Mary a neutral answer. “It's a surprise to say the least.” He gave her a small smile.

Mary assumed a thoughtful expression, “Why wouldn't he have told you though?”

John bit back the sharp retort that sprang to his lips, he looked at the television screen, the frown on his face deepening. “Probably didn't want to bother us. We are on our honeymoon after all.” John took a deep breath, counted to ten, then looked at the clock on the far wall. “And if we don't hurry we're going to be late.”

Mary looked up at John. “Late for what? I thought we were spending the day in?”

John shook his head, “No, I've made plans for us to have a nice boat ride and picnic then dinner and a movie later on.” John sighed inwardly, he would deal with the news of Sherlock's engagement later. “Wear the blue outfit, it brings out your eyes.” John turned back towards the living room, pausing in the doorway, he looked back at Mary. “It also shows off your curves, something I don't mind admiring.” He gave her a small nod then left the room.

Mary stared at the empty doorway, surprise coursing through her. They had been in Paris for almost three weeks and John had been cordial at best. The sudden compliment was a pleasant surprise. “Maybe the news that Sherlock is moving on has cracked his shell.” Mary whispered softly. She left the bed and headed to the closet to get the requested outfit then to the bathroom for a quick shower. Maybe things were starting to look up for her and John after all.

Meanwhile, John was pacing the length of the living room. His steps short and clipped as he tried to tamp down the anger simmering through him. Sherlock was engaged...Sherlock was... _engaged_! How was this even possible? They had only been gone for three weeks and Sherlock gets _engaged_?! John couldn't stand it, he had to know for himself. He pulled his phone out of his pocket while listening for the shower. He wanted to call but decided to send a text instead.

_I hear_ c _ongratulations are in order?_ John waited impatiently for an answer, turning the phone over in his hands. He could feel his stomach churning at the thought of having lost Sherlock for good.

_I will say thank you, only because I am unsure as to what you are referring to._

John tried to hold back the curse that rose up in his throat at Sherlock's attempt at deflection. He was not going to let him off the hook that easily, muttering as much while he angrily sent a text back. All the while still listening for Mary in the shower.

_Your bloody engagement, Sherlock! How could you not tell me that you were getting engaged? I've only been gone three weeks, what changed, who is it, how did this even happen?!_

_Yes, well it happened quiet suddenly. Thank you, did not wish to bother you while you were on your honeymoon. You will get to meet her once you return, hope all is well._

John sank down to the couch behind him. Had Sherlock's feelings changed in such a short time? Who was this mystery person that had managed to capture his attention and affection so quickly. Then his phone pinged with a message from an unknown number.

_I love you, John. I swear I will explain everything once you're back in London, can not risk your safety while you are with Mary. Please, do not forget what I told you. -SH_

John let out a harsh sigh, closing his eyes as he tried to calm down. So there _was_ a reason for the newscast. John looked down at his phone, aware that the shower had stopped running. He sent a quick message back to Sherlock, his chest a little lighter than before.

_I love you too, Sherlock. Is there anything else I should know before I get back?_ He didn't know what made him ask the question but he felt there was more than what was being said on the news.

_Yes, but not before your return..._

John bit back a frustrated growl, shaking his head as he listened to Mary moving around in the bedroom. Before he could send a response, Sherlock sent another text.

_You promised you would always love me, John. No matter what happened...please remember that._

_Would be easier if you would just tell me what's going on!_

John tried to calm down, he knew it would do no good to let his temper run free, Mary was already suspicious about his mood swings. He needed to get a clear handle on his emotions or this could all end badly. Sighing, he waited to see if Sherlock would respond. It wasn't until he heard Mary calling his name, telling him she was ready to go, did he realize Sherlock hadn't.

John tried to keep his irritation down as best he could. After getting dressed, he took Mary on the aforementioned gondola ride and picnic, trying to be as solicitous as possible. He made sure she had a pillow and blanket and was even able to make small talk with her. They went to the park and watched the mime's and artists and had their pictures drawn. John made the effort not to check his phone. He knew how Sherlock felt but the news from earlier had taken him by surprise. Thankfully, they had avoided talking about the engagement...until dinner. It seemed as if Mary was determined to discuss the _happy news_ until John wanted to scream in frustration. He didn't care about the engagement nor did he care that it seemed so sudden. What did catch his attention was Mary saying there had been a child with the happy couple. A young boy with dark, chestnut curls and an angelic smile. John had to bite his tongue at the words. A son...Sherlock had a son?! No...nonono, John would have known about him. This isn't something Sherlock would have hid from him. Would he...would Sherlock really hide the fact that he had a son? He needed to know, John thought desperately, surely Sherlock wouldn't keep something like this from him...

“John, are you paying attention to anything I'm saying?” Mary's irritation was beginning to show through in her words. She had been watching John through out dinner, watching as he struggled to control his anger and something else. Something Mary couldn't quite name but she could see it in his eyes when he glanced around the room. Gritting her teeth, Mary waited until John was finally looking at her. “Are you ok, love? You look a little tired, maybe we should fore go the movie and head back to the hotel. We're leaving tomorrow afternoon, so I'm sure we could use the rest.”

John looked at Mary, anger simmering along his nerves. He wanted to ignore everything she was saying, wanted to believe that he knew everything there was to know about Sherlock. Sitting across from Mary and taking in the calculating gleam in her eyes, he realized, he _didn't_ know everything there was to know about _anyone_ in his life. Not Greg or Molly, obviously not Mary or Mycroft, and now it seems he could add Sherlock to the growing list of people. But if he were fully honest with himself, Sherlock didn't know everything there was to know about him either. Ghosts of his past, distant memories in his mind, threatened to break past their holdings. Turning his thoughts back to the present, John held back a sigh of irritation. He wouldn't ruin the evening with his inner turmoil, so he gave her a stiff smile and shook his head. “No, it's just been a lot to take in, especially since we've been gone for a month. Just goes to show that love is for everyone. Don't you think?” John let out a soft sigh. Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough, he needed to get back to London, back to what he knew was familiar but now wasn't. “Let's go see what's playing, hopefully something good. We've had some pretty good nights out since being here, haven't we?” John stood up from his chair after paying the check. He helped Mary to her feet then escorted her out of the restaurant. They walked the few blocks to the theatre and looked over the choices. Having decided on a comedy, John payed for the tickets and after finally being seated, he let his thoughts turn to Sherlock.

John was trying desperately to hold onto what Sherlock had told him.  _ I love you, John, no matter what happens, please, never forget that.  _ He was trying to hold on to the hope that this was all part of Mycroft and Sherlock's grand plan. The wedding, the fiancee...a son. John's hands curled around his drink tightly. Sherlock was a father and he didn't even know about it. How could he not know something so important about Sherlock? John jumped slightly when Mary's hand slid up his leg, tracing lightly from his knee to his thigh. “Oi, are you trying to get us in trouble?” He whispered softly to her. He made sure to keep his tone light and teasing, he didn't want anything else to have to worry about right now.

“And if I were, Dr. Watson? Would you be completely against the idea of a little more fun before we leave Paris?” Mary gave John a coy smile. She knew where his mind was, had been on the receiving end of his pent up passion for the better part of a month, not that she minded in the least. John was rough enough to leave a few bruises, something Mary enjoyed, yet he was gentle enough that she would always want more. She wanted his anger tonight, however, John was always apologetic and solicitous after and she knew that his temper was simmering just under his skin. “We could always turn on an old movie and enjoy the fireplace before we leave.”

John wanted to say no, wanted to deny the need to release his anger out on her body...but he couldn't. He needed to exorcise the rage rolling in his stomach, needed to release the anger of betrayal burning through his body, but most of all he needed to punish someone and Mary was the closest and best person for that. “Yeah,” John whispered softly. He leaned over and slid a hand slowly up the inside of her thigh. “Yeah, we can do that, get a glass of ginger ale for you and a scotch for me.” He pressed his hand against the soft flesh of Mary's inner thigh, smiling grimly at her soft gasp. John felt her thigh tremble as he applied more pressure, his gaze on the screen, as his hand slowly made its way to her warm, wet center. He wasn't surprised to find she had no underwear on, they had after all, been happy at one point and time. “I see you came prepared for anything.” John glanced around them, wanting to make sure they weren't being watched. Sliding his hand across the soft mound, John tried to hold back the heady rush of pleasure. He didn't want to rush things, he had to much pent up anger and frustration to rush anything tonight. He wanted to make her beg him for it...to hear her cries of pain and pleasure as he made her take everything he'd give her. John wanted to punish her for keeping him from Sherlock, for telling him about the engagement, the baby...everything. “What do you say we get out of here and head back, yeah? End the month with a bang, hmmm?”He slid a finger between her lips, a malicious grin on his face as she let out a whimpering sigh and short head nod.

They left the theatre, both breathless for very different reasons, Mary from excitement and John from rage fueled lust. He grabbed her roughly and kissed her hard, pleased with her surprised moan. He kissed her until the only thing either were aware of were each other, their surroundings falling away. They had been so engrossed with each other that they missed the blond man and woman who walked by. The man, whose piercing ice blue gaze watched them, was flushed and shaking. The woman, her peridot gaze narrowed on the couple, spoke softly to her companion and pulled him in the opposite direction. John didn't notice the black car pulling up behind them as he helped Mary into their cab. It wasn't until he heard his name, did John look up at the car passing by them. He saw the blond woman through the window, her ice green gaze watching him as the car drove by. He shook his head, confused by her look, when he looked up at the back window of the car, he could have sworn that a pair of ice blue eyes were staring back at him... _ Sherlock's eyes _ . John watched as the car turned the corner, jerking back when he heard Mary's voice asking him if he were ok.  _ It wasn't possible, he wouldn't have followed me here...would he?  _ John shook his head as he got into the back of the cab, it was just his imagination. There was no way Sherlock could be in Paris...

John's thoughts broke off when he felt Mary's mouth closing over his hard erection. He hadn't realized she'd been so busy while he'd been lost in his thoughts. Looking up at the driver, he offered him an extra 20 Euros on top of what ever their fare would be. After the man had nodded and grinned at him, John leaned his head back against the seat. He let out a soft sigh as Mary moved her head up and down, sucking as he thrust up gently. John wanted to use her, to just thrust up and fuck her mouth until she was choking from it. Instead, he let her go at her pace, imagining it was Sherlock's mouth he was thrusting into. The beautiful bow shaped mouth stretched around his hard cock as he thrust in then out. John groaned as his hands slid into Mary's hair. His breaths came out short and choppy as he tried to keep his hips from moving faster. He felt Mary swallow around his cock and almost came right then in her mouth. The thought that he didn't want the pleasure to end so quickly, made it possible for him to hold off his orgasm. He imagined the feel of Sherlock's hand's in place of Mary's, wishing that it were those long, pale fingers stroking over him. He grunted when Mary hummed around him, the sensation throbbing through out his entire body. John tried to hold back, to keep from coming in her mouth but Mary wasn't having it. Thrusting up sharply, John's fingers tightened in her hair as his mind ran rampant at the thought of doing this to Sherlock. Of finally being able to feel that warm, wet mouth...

John gasped out loud as he came in Mary's mouth. His fingers curling into her hair as his hips thrust up once...twice...and if John whispered Sherlock's name...they both pretended...yet again...not to notice. Once the cab slowed in front of their hotel, John and Mary exited the car, paying the driver the fare plus the promised extra, and headed up to their room. He wasn't through and knew Mary could feel it. The repressed anger he'd been holding in all day was slowly turning into lust...fueled by jealousy, fear, and desperation.

The elevator ride to their room was one filled with small feminine gasps of pleasure and groans of need. John kept Mary pressed against the wall of the elevator, pressing his hips against her's. He made sure to keep her mouth occupied with his, he didn't want to talk anymore and when they made it to their floor, they were both ready for a long night of sex. By the time they made it to their room, John had already decided that he would use Mary's body to ease his frustrations, just as she used the baby to keep him from leaving her, from going back to Sherlock.

“I'm going to go get ready, why don't you pour us both a drink and I'll be back shortly.” Mary smiled at John. She knew what was going on in his head. The anger and desperation were clear to see. She didn't care though, Mary refused to throw in the towel just yet and give up on John Watson. Running a hand over her stomach gently, she sighed. John would be an excellent father, if she could convince him to accept the idea of it first. That was another thing on her to do list as well. Making sure that her child was taken care of, no matter what. When John nodded and headed towards the small kitchen, Mary turned and entered the bedroom. She knew it had bothered John to hear about Sherlock and his soon to be new family. She had taken some small pleasure in the pain that had filled the sky blue eyes when she'd told him of the little boy. A smaller version of Sherlock from the curls to his smile. The picture hadn't shown his or his mother's faces to clearly but Mary wasn't worried about it. They would be heading back to London tomorrow afternoon, she would find out who they were after meeting them.

John watched Mary's shadow move around the bedroom as she changed clothes. He poured himself a drink while pulling out his phone. He had two text and two picture messages. Draining his glass he opened the first text, blinking as he read the message twice. Closing the first one out he opened the second one, his hand shaking. He almost dropped his glass when he saw the words...

_She will never mean as much to me as you do – SH_

John sucked in a quick breath, his eyes filling with tears. This was going to be much harder than he originally thought. Closing the message, John opened the first picture message and froze. It was a picture of him and Mary earlier on their gondala ride, they were both smiling as they looked into the water. The second picture was one of them this evening, just before they got into the cab. John was shaking as he tried to figure out who had sent them. Then he remembered the blond woman from earlier, could it have been her? Was she following them around or was he just imagining things? She _had_ looked familiar, as if he knew her from somewhere but couldn't remember exactly. Shaking his head, John closed the message and locked his phone. He knew Mary had been trying to get into it and he didn't want her to see his messages from Sherlock. He started to put his phone up until he thought about the last message from his curly headed detective. Taking a deep breath, he unlocked it again and opened up his messages. He sent a response back to him, knowing he would understand it better than anyone else. After shutting off his phone, John headed towards the bedroom. He would deal with the new developments concerning Sherlock and his new mystery family once they returned to London. Until then, he would deal with the cards fate had dealt them and play the game accordingly.


	10. Chapter 10

_He loves me...He said he loves me, if he loves me then why is he so caught up..._ Sherlock couldn't stop the thoughts racing through his head, not after having seen John and Mary together. He had known John would have to act like Mary's husband, had tried to prepare himself to see them together but hadn't been as prepared as he would have liked. It had taken everything in him to keep from...

“Shezza, ești bine? Cine a fost și ce înseamnă pentru tine? Știu că femeia, dar bărbatul...Îl știu de undeva.” (Shezza, are you ok? Who was that and what do they mean to you? I know the woman but the man...I know him from somewhere.) Emilie said softly, breaking into his thoughts and rubbing small circles across the broad, tense back. “Respirație încet, trebuie să te calmezi inainte de a avea un atac de anxietate.” (Breath slowly, you must calm down before you have an anxiety attack.) Emilie didn't know the full story as to why Sherlock had asked her and Sherringford to come to London. All she knew was that Anthea had contacted her father and he in turn, had contacted her. What little details she'd been able to get from Mycroft, prior to her arrival, weren't very helpful either. When Sherlock had called and said he had changed their meeting place, she didn't argue, aware that he had his own reasons for the change. Now, after seeing Sherlock's reaction to the blond couple at the theatre, Emilie had an idea as to what was going on.

“Cum, Emilie, cum aș putea să fac asta și tot ce pot vedea este o saruta-l? Știam că vom avea de a face cu acest lucru, dar eu nu știu dacă pot.” (How, Emilie, how am I supposed to do that and all I can see is him kissing her? I knew we were going to have to deal with this but I don't know if I can.) Sherlock wanted to ignore the images in his head. It had been a last minute idea to have Emilie and Sherringford meet him in Paris. He knew that John and Mary had decided to honeymoon there and had wanted to be sure he was ok. Mycroft had sent Lestrade with him when Sherlock had told him of his plans, but the other had called off on going out this evening. Stating that he and his new, young friend were going to watch movies. It had been pure chance, them passing John and Mary outside of the theatre, pressed against each other in such an intimate way. He had almost walked over and snatched them apart, until Emilie had pulled him towards the car.

“You are going to have to explain to me what's going on, if you expect me to understand that.” Emilie switched from Romanian to English. Her father, Ananias St. Cyr, had been short in his message concerning Sherlock. It had been almost four years since she'd seen him and it bothered her. His sudden emotional state was also cause for concern, the last time he'd acted this way about someone, it had gotten them both hurt. “Who is he to you, Sherlock and why is he with _her_.” At his look of surprise, Emilie frowned. “You didn't think I would recognize her? I know exactly who she is. What I need for you to do is tell me why she and her companion elicit such a strong reaction from you?”

Sherlock looked out the window of the black car. He knew he was going to have to explain a number of things to his friend. One of which happened to be who John H. Watson was to him. “Let's wait until we are back at the hotel. I'd like to be able to put Sherringford to bed myself.” He looked over at Emilie. “If that is ok with you?”

Emilie nodded her head. “Of course, he's missed his time with you, Shezza. He doesn't quite understand where you've been for so long...neither of us do.” Her ice green gaze scanned Sherlock's face, concern creasing her brow. She knew Greg had an idea as to what was going on, if the looks he'd kept sneaking Sherlock earlier in the evening meant anything, but she was silently waiting on Sherlock to speak. “Will you tell me what has happened to change you, Sherlock? Tell me where is my Shezza?”

Sherlock wanted to refuse, wanted to tell her it was none of her concern and to lock everything away. Instead, he let out a tired sigh and nodded his head once. He knew he was going to have to tell her about Serbia, his feelings for John, and everything in between. “You're free for how long, Em?”

“For as long as you need me. Papa said that he will help if needed as well, it seems grandfather is trying to marry him off...again.” Emilie smiled as Sherlock gave a soft huff. “He asked for his grandson's opinion and of course he acted like you.”

Sherlock tried to hide the smile that threatened to break through at the swell of pride for his son. “Tell me how you and Ford have been doing, I've missed a lot of time with him and I need to catch up.” Sherlock laid his head back on the seat, listening to the soft voice beside him. He knew that in order for them to be successful in catching Moriarty, they would need to use all their resources. Even those that preferred to hide in the dark. He knew that it was a risk to both Emilie and Ford, bringing them to London but it was a necessary risk. From what they knew of Moran, Emilie was the only one other than Mary who has ever seen him. His military background could account for that but there was a period of time that was missing. A period that not even the military could account for, which made him that more dangerous. There was already very little information about the elusive former Army snipers life or activities. The fact that he had served in Afghanistan...

Sherlock jerked upright, Moran had been stationed in Afghanistan around the same time as John. They would have known each other, would they have served together, gone on missions together? John was a Captain which would mean Moran would have been ranked above him. Sherlock could remember John telling him he had been up for promotion but because he'd defied a senior officer, it had been denied. Could that have been Moran, did Emilie know John as well? There was a period in John's life that Sherlock was not privy to, could that be the...

“You're over thinking, Shezza. Does it have to do with the couple we saw earlier?” Emilie looked at Sherlock, aware that he had been lost in his head for most of the conversation.

Sherlock needed more information, he needed to find out if there was a connection between John and Moran, but first... “Em, I need to know everything you know about Sebastian Moran and John Watson.” He saw the surprise on her face, the look of recognition in her eyes at the mention of both names.

“How would you know either of them, Sherlock? Sebastian if not someone that I would introduce to anyone and John...I don't actually remember him but Seb talked about him, alot. Said he was the ideal soldier, although he was being sarcastic most of the time.” Emilie stopped talking. Her green gaze turning to observe the shops they passed. “Understand, there are somethings I simply can't tell you Shezza, things that could get people killed. The things we did and the things we saw...” Turning back to Sherlock, she laid a hand on his leg. “Seb had a thing for blonds and John was a blond, I remember that much.” Emilie turned thoughtful. “Seb said he was blond with blue eyes and an officer's voice. He was up for a promotion, I think but because he refused an order, Seb turned him in for insubordination. Failure to follow the orders of a commanding officer? I can't...I don't remember...” Emilie drifted off. Her gaze back on the shops they drove by. “Either way, I saw him only on missions and we rarely spoke even then but his team followed him without question. Just as Seb's team followed him without question.”

Sherlock could tell there was more, there always was when involved with people like Moran. “Can you tell me what the order was? Or at the very least, tell me _why_ John defied Moran.”

Sighing, Emilie turned back to Sherlock, “You have to understand, Shezza. The entire group, we had nothing to come home to. Sure, some of us had families or whatever but other than that, we had nothing. The group of people Seb put together were the best in their fields. The things we did, we were told it was for the right reasons, until we were ordered to kill innocents. That's where Seb and John started to clash.”

Sherlock nodded his head. “That would make sense, John is a doctor, he believes in saving peoples lives unless it's absolutely necessary. He won't take a life unless it's the last choice he has open to him.”

“So, this is the mysterious person, John Watson? Who is _she_ to him and if you're in love with him, why is he with _her_?” Emilie looked at Sherlock in confusion.

“Let's talk inside.” He said softly as they pulled up in front of the hotel. “Thank you George, I will call you in the morning if we choose to go out.”

“Very good, Mr. Holmes, Lady St. Cyr, it is a pleasure to see you again. You both have a good night.” With that said, George, their driver, left them standing in front of the hotel and went to park the car.

“Come, Shezza, let's go inside. It's usually warmer this time of year, I do not understand why it's so cold.” Emilie shivered as she pulled Sherlock towards the doors of the hotel, blond curls whipping wildly in the wind. She could see he was impatient to get answers to his questions just as she was to hers. “I'll tell you about Sebby and Mary and you can tell me about John and why _he_ is with _her_ and not you.” She laughed softly at the surprised look on his face. “Come, let's put Ford to bed and then you, Gregory, and I will sit down and talk. You can also explain to me why we are here in Paris, as well.”

They rode the elevator up to their suite in silence. Sherlock leaned back against the wall behind him and closed his eyes. He needed to figure out how Moran and John were connected. If they knew each other that would mean Mary knew more about John than even John thought. “Do you think Mary would intentionally hurt John? If it were a choice between Moran and John, do you think Mary would truly pick John?”

Emilie looked thoughtful for a moment before she answered. “I honestly don't know, Sherlock. I'm not sure how the relationship is between Sebby and Mary, anymore. I haven't seen or heard from Sebastian since I left the Army, especially after the debacle involving his court martial for actions unbecoming an officer. And the last time I saw Mary, well, we were both different people with very different looks.”

Sherlock's eyes snapped open, “What do you mean? You've never said anything about a court martial before. How is this something you would not mention to me?” He demanded, anger barely hidden in his words. “As many times as we have been in contact with each other...”

“Do not start with _me_ about omitting information, William Sherlock Scott Holmes.” Emilie looked over at the tall man beside her, her eyes cold as a frown curved her lips down. “Sherlock, Col. Moran out ranked both John _and_ myself. The unit I was with was _not_ acknowledged by the governments we served. So tell me _why_ I would _mention_ something like that to you and you couldn't even fucking tell me that you disappeared in Serbia looking for Jim's people! And _that_ was only _after_ you faked your death!” Her voice had risen as her anger lit up as well. Emilie glared at Sherlock, she knew more than he thought but it had taken almost five years for him to come to them, to _finally_ tell them face-to-face why he had been absent from their lives.

Sherlock bit back the angry retort that sprang to his lips. He knew she was right, that he should have said something sooner but how could he tell her that their son had been in danger? That because of him, everyone, including Ford and John, were at risk? “How did you find out? Mycroft must have let something slip if you found out about...”

The elevator stopped on their floor and Sherlock moved to leave once the doors opened. He glanced back to see Emilie looking at him, the look on her face making him pause in his statement. “Emilie?”

“Mycroft didn't tell you did he?” Emilie slowly left the elevator, her green gaze on Sherlock. She could see that Sherlock didn't understand what she was talking about and sighed. “Come, let's get comfortable and we will talk about everything.” Emilie walked down the long hallway towards their suite, she could feel Sherlock's eyes on her. Knew he wanted to know what she was talking about, his impatience almost tangible.

Sherlock glared at the woman in front of him. What did she mean by Mycroft didn't tell him? Tell him...what...exactly? It was on the tip of his tongue to ask until the suite door opened and Sherringford rushed out. He watched as the young boy hugged his mother, telling her about his movie night with Uncle Greg and the sandwich they made. When he looked up at Sherlock, his face glowed with his pleasure.

“Papa!!” Sherringford squealed in delight. “Stai noaptea? Este unchiul Greg sta la fel de bine? Pot să dorm în camera ta în seara asta? Când putem viziona un film împreună?” (Are you staying the night? Is Uncle Greg going to stay as well? Can I sleep in your room tonight? When can we watch a movie together?)

Sherlock couldn't help the smile that curved his lips, Sherringford Ananias Holmes was an energetic child. At the age of five, he already displayed Sherlock's aptitude for thinking and a sharp tongue for those he did not like. He also had Mycroft's ability to stare at a person until they either stopped talking or left in a hurry. Despite this, Ford was an exceptionally gifted child, which in turn worried his parents.

As he kneeled down in front of the toddler, he held his hands out and answered him. “Sunt stau și eu cred că el este, de asemenea. Poți să dormi în camera mea, dacă doriți, eu trebuie să discute câteva lucruri cu mama ta mai întâi. În ceea ce privește filmul, vom da seama cel mai bun timp pentru asta. Pentru moment, ce zici să mergem în si pregateste-te de culcare? Să mumie și unchiul tău vorbim?” (I am staying and I believe he is as well. You can sleep in my room if you wish, I must discuss some things with your mother first. As for the movie, we will figure out the best time for that. For now, how about we go in and get ready for bed? Let mummy and your uncle talk?)  The smile that lit up the small face in front of him was enough to assure Sherlock that he'd said the right thing. Pressing a kiss against his son's curls he straightened up and looked at Lestrade, who stood in the doorway. “He wasn't any trouble, was he? We apologize if we were out later than expected.” Sherlock saw the surprise on Lestrade's face and decided to ignore it in hopes that it would go unnoticed. He picked up Sherringford and headed to the door, walking past Lestrade and into the suite.

Greg was shocked at Sherlock's apology, looking back at Emilie, he waited for her to enter the suite before responding. “He wasn't any trouble at all actually. Rather pleasant evening to say the least.” Greg smiled as he watched Sherlock with Ford. “He's a rather exceptional child, Sherlock. You should be proud of him, especially one so young. He knows a lot about music and history but we didn't talk to much about science.” Greg grimaced, “I couldn't keep up to well.”

“He's usually like that when he's trying to show off, like Shezza.” Emilie said with a smile. “Give it time, he repeats everything he has been taught by his father and by Mycroft. Eventually he will repeat you, Detective Inspector and I suspect that may be the best thing for him.” Emilie smiled at Greg then turned to Sherlock and her son. “Timp pentru pat, tinere. Tu dormi în camera lui Papa, dar este timpul pentru tine de a fi în pat.” (Time for bed, young man. You sleep in Papa's room but it is time for you to be in bed.)  She started laughing at the frown that curved the small mouth down. “Sherlock...”

Sherlock ran a hand through the dark curls in front of him. “Mama ta are dreptate, este timpul pentru culcare. O să-ți citesc o poveste, atunci învelesc. Avem încă nevoie de a avea o discuție adult, mumie și I.” (Your mother is right, it is time for bed. I'll read you a story then tuck you in. We still need to have an adult talk, mummy and I.)  He smiled when Ford nodded, his lips still turned down in a pout. Laughing softly, he whispered to Ford that he should kiss his mother goodnight and go get ready for story time. Ford agreed and did as he was told, excited more about staying up than anything else. Looking back at Emilie and Greg, he gave them both a small smile. “I will be back shortly.” His gaze on Emilie, he gave her and Lestrade a short nod before following after his son.

“What the bloody hell is going on here?” Greg asked as soon as Sherlock left the room. He had been surprised when he'd seen Emilie then Sherringford. He'd sent Mycroft a text telling him he owed him some answers when they saw each other next, the other had replied with a simple, “ _Yes, Gregory_.”

Emilie gave Greg a small smile. “We will explain it all as best we can when Sherlock returns. Until then, Detective Inspector...”

“Greg.” Greg cut her off. At her confused look, he gave her a small smile and nod. “Please, call me Greg. Detective Inspector is my title at work. I'm off the clock now, so call me Greg or Gregory, which ever is easiest.”

Emile nodded, “Very well then, Gregory, please, call me Emilie. Lady St. Cyr is far to formal here in this setting.” At Greg's wide eyed look, Emilie laughed. “You did not know of my families title?”

Greg shook his head, how could he have known she was a member of one of the most prominent families in England? “What, but you know Sherlock and you're former military. With your families power and money, how is that even possible?”

Emilie's laugh filled the room as she walked over to the mini fridge. “Would you like a drink, Gregory?”

“He only drinks beer when out or a strong scotch on the rocks. He usually prefers something neat and dry at home with Mycroft. Probably because my brother is a stiff bastard but he would like something messy and you make them so very well.” Sherlock spoke as he walked back into the room.

Both Greg and Emilie looked up at Sherlock's entrance, a glare from Greg and laughter from Emilie greeted his statement. “What would you remember about how messy I can be Shezza?” She winked as she looked in the mini fridge for the soda then turned to the bar looking at the bottles behind the counter. “And this is Mycroft's suite when he is here on business?”

Greg nodded, “He said it was easier to keep track of you two here than if we stayed with you.”

“Mycroft just wants to be a controlling arsehole who thinks he has the right to impose his will on everyone around him. No matter how they truly feel about the entire situation.” Sherlock muttered. He looked up in surprise when both Emilie and Greg started laughing. Frowning he sushed them both, reminding them that Ford was asleep in the next room.

Emilie gasped, “I-I'm sorry but you just described yourself when speaking of Mycroft.” She couldn't contain her mirth, looking over at Greg and laughing even harder at the expression on his face. “Gregory?” She gasped out, the question was clear despite her giggles.

Greg had laughed at Sherlock's statement, not surprised that it had been said with as much irritation as only Sherlock could show. “You two know each other better than Myc let on, don't you?” The sudden stop of Emilie's laughter was surprising, the room having gone silent. He frowned when he saw the look that passed between the two blond's. “What, what do I not know...now?”

Emilie glared at Sherlock then turned to Greg. “Do you mean to tell me that you don't know who we are, Gregory?”

“Of course he knows who you both are, it's not as if I have never...” Sherlock started to answer but was cut off by Greg.

“Actually, Sherlock, I've never heard you say either of their names. Neither you nor Mycroft, come to think of it and I'm bloody sure John doesn't know either, does he?” At Sherlock's suddenly cold look and Emilie's slowly reddening face, Greg seemed to understand that there was something more going on than looking for Moriarty or watching Mary and John. “What the hell is going on you two?” When they both remained silent, angry glares locked on each other, Greg sighed. “Fuck it all! Just what the bloody hell is going on!” When a pair of ice green, then ice blue eyes turned to him, he frowned. “Don't either of you give me that look, I want to know what's going on.”

Sherlock glared at Greg, his temper finally beginning to show. “I _have_ , in fact, told you both about Emilie and Ford. Just...not their, names...specifically.” At the angry looks he was given, he automatically went on the defensive. “I didn't mention the names for safety reasons. I did tell you the story, Lestrade, of the friend who, uh, helped me when Victor had become to violent and possessive...”

“ _This_ is the friend?! Emilie is the friend that saved you from your crazed ex and you didn't think I needed to be told her _name_ ?” Greg looked at Sherlock as if he were losing his mind. “This is the _same friend_ who was attacked by the _same ex_ and you didn't think that we needed to know you had a _son_ with her?!” Greg couldn't hide his astonishment at Sherlock's lack of consideration as well as his out right lack of telling the whole story.

Sherlock glared at Greg. “There are reasons why I failed to mention their names. One being who Emilie's family is and two, Ford, technically, is _not_ my son.” Sherlock glanced at Emilie, unsure if he should tell Greg the rest or not.

“His father is Victor Trevor and it was _not_ consensual.” Emilie said softly.

“He raped you.” Greg said in a flat voice. “He raped you and because you're a St. Cyr your family couldn't afford the scandal and his family would make it look like you were at fault.”

Emilie nodded, “Grandmother's blood is what would cast suspicion, no matter how exemplary father may have lived his life, any hint of impropriety was blamed on the _gypsy blood_. So I hid it until I'd gotten sick in front of Sherlock, who figured it out after that.” She smiled fondly at the pale man across from her. “He wouldn't let me leave him out of anything, not a doctors appointment or sonograms or shopping expeditions. Insisted on having a picture and helping out when possible.”

Sherlock fidgeted under Greg's sharp stare. He knew that this was a side he didn't show often and not to many people. “Emilie saved me when no one else tried or wanted to. I had called Mycroft but...” Sherlock sighed, remembering how that call had went. “I'd asked for help so many times only to burn him and he was justified in not immediately coming to my aid...”

“That's pure shite and you know it. He should have come as soon as you asked for help Sherlock, not after and not when he got ready to.” Greg's anger could be heard in his voice. This was something he hadn't known about the Holmes brothers. He'd known Sherlock had been an addict and that he was often called to help out on nights Mycroft called Sherlock's _danger nights_ but this was something completely different. “He should have...”

“I gave him no reason to believe other wise.” Sherlock said softly. “It had happened more than once and usually it ended with me stealing his wallet, just so Victor and I could get high. So yes, I believe he would be justified in not rushing to my assistance.”

Greg sighed, “You know what, I think I'll take that drink now Emilie, if you don't mind.” He gave her a small smile then turned to Sherlock. “Things are going to just get more complicated as we go forward, isn't it?”

Sherlock nodded his head. “It's going to be a test for all of us to see if we can survive this or not. I am hoping that we are successful this time in making sure that all ghosts are put to rest.”

Greg nodded his head in agreement, he thanked Emilie for the drink then asked the question that had been bothering him most of the day. “How are you going to explain all of this to John, Sherlock? You know that he must have heard of your...engagement...by now.”

Sherlock frowned, “John texted me earlier about it. He seemed rather upset and I can certainly understand why.” When Emilie and Greg both frowned at him, Sherlock let out a soft sigh. “I did not tell John that Emilie and Sherringford would be coming to London, so admittedly the news of our engagement would come as a bit of a surprise.”

“You know, Shezza, you and I are going to need to sit down and have a long heart to heart.” Emilie was looking out of the window and down at the city below. She had always loved Paris, especially when shopping with Aveline, it had always been a way to relax and forget responsibilities of family and duties to state and country. “We should never have allowed some many secrets to develop between us.”

“Some things were done for the safety of others, Emilie. We both know that sentiment...feelings...can and will get in the way of our jobs. We have to, _bury_ , those feelings in order to do what needs to be done, to protect those we care for the most.” Sherlock was thinking about his son and John. He would do what ever it took to protect them both...he had died once and would do so again if it would save them from the devil himself.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG!!! I AM SOOOO SORRY TO EVERYONE WHO'S BEEN READING..I SWEAR I THOUGHT I HAD THIS CHAPTER UP SMH Either way, this is the chapter before Sherlock and John run into Sebastian, Victor, and Magnussen :) THANK YOU to Juliemagg for letting me know that something was missing :D!!!

_Please Join us in celebrating the engagement of_

_William Sherlock Scott Holmes_

_and_

_Lady Emilie Ne'laya St. Cyr_

_Time:: 7:00 pm_

_Date:: March 31, 2016_

_Place:: Le Caprice in Piccadilly_

_Arlington Street London SW1A 1RJ_

_Phone:: 020 7629 2239_

_RSVP by March 15, 2016 with Mycroft Holmes_

_The Bride & Groom would like to thank everyone in advance for attending _

_and hope to see you at the party._

 

John looked at the soft white and silver invitation in his hands, a tremor running through him. He and Mary had arrived back in London two weeks ago to the news of Sherlock's engagement. Two, _hellishly_ long weeks, where he hadn't seen or heard from Sherlock and now, he held an invitation to his engagement party in his hands. Taking a deep breath, John reread the invite, trying to remember that Sherlock had once been in his position. How he had helped John with his engagement and wedding, planning them both with almost little to no help. Then the night before the wedding...their confessions...the promises they made...

Back then, John hadn't _known_ about Sherlock's feelings for him. When he'd gone to Baker Street, he had simply planned on talking to Sherlock about what happened earlier with Mary. He hadn't planned on confessing his feelings or Sherlock confessing his as well. Neither had planned on spending half of the night in bed either, whispering promises of forever. It hadn't been to late to change things, John had been given a choice and of course he'd chosen Sherlock. Until he'd returned back to the flat he shared with Mary...and she'd announced she was pregnant.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, John replaced the invitation back in its envelope. He wasn't sure he could sit through an engagement party with Mary, watching Sherlock with his new fiancee. John stared at the envelope in front of him then pulled the invite back out again, he started in surprise when a smaller envelope fell out and into his lap. Frowning, he picked it up and turned it over, surprised to see his name in Sherlock's handwriting. Looking at the larger envelope, John noticed that it had been printed instead of handwritten. Setting the larger one aside, John opened the smaller of the two, his stomach churning as he tried not to think about the letter inside.

_Dear John,_

“Oh god, if he's starting it off like this...” John whispered, hands shaking, he took a deep breath and read the rest of the letter, his heart pounding against his ribs.

_I once told you that you would hate me by the time all of this was over and I find myself wishing for it not to be true. We both understood that this would be difficult, what I had not anticipated was just how difficult it would be. I do miss you...”_

John sighed, relief slowly replacing the apprehension he had been feeling. So Sherlock wasn't going to tell him to bugger off.

_I am unsure as to how things will proceed but I do want you to understand that my feelings for you have not changed. Never forget that, John, no matter what happens...I will always love you._

_Sherlock_

John let out a small giggle, his hands clenching around the edges of the paper, as he read the last line again. He hadn't lost Sherlock after all. This had to be part of his plan, this had to be his way of...

“John?”

John's head snapped up at the sound of Mary's voice. “Oh, umm, sorry, I, uh, didn't hear you knock.” He could feel his heart racing as he tried to figure out how long Mary had been standing in the door way. He refolded the letter and set it down in his lap, out of Mary's view.

“I just walked in, wanted to see if you had eaten or not?” Mary looked at John. She glanced down at the envelope on his desk then back up at his face. Something was off but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. “Would you like to get someth...”

_“Dr. Watson, you have a call, line one please, Dr. Watson, line one.”_

John looked over at his phone then back at Mary, “Maybe a rain check? I was expecting a patient earlier and then I have a consultation. What about dinner, if it's not to late?”

Mary nodded, giving John a slight smile. “That sounds nice, anything in particular?”

_Dr. Watson, line one please, Dr. Watson line one..._

John glanced up at Mary as he picked up the phone. “Uh, no, uh not...not that I can think of right now.”

“Ok, well, I'll see you after shift then.” Mary gave him a small wave and backed out the door.

John waved back, already distracted by his phone call. “Dr. Watson here, how may I help you?” It wasn't until Mary had closed the door did John turn his full attention to the voice on the phone.

_“Hello, Dr. Watson?”_

“I, uh, yes this is Dr. Watson, how can I be of assistance?”

_“Dr. Watson, my name is Emilie St. Cyr and if you're free for lunch, I'd really like to sit down and speak with you.”_

John froze, his body going numb. Emilie St. Cyr...Sherlock's fiancee was calling him? Why, had something happened to Sherlock and he didn't know about it? Did she want to warn him away from her fiancee? “A-are you certain that's a wise decision, Lady St. Cyr?” John used her formal title, uncertain about how she would want to be addressed.

_“Please, call me Emilie, Lady St. Cyr is far to formal and yes, I believe it would be in the best interest of someone we both care about. Please, Dr. Watson...if you have any love for him...”_

“T-tell me when and where, I'll meet you.” John tried to control the breathless sound of his voice, hoping Emilie hadn't heard it. IF he had any love for him? There was no way she could know of his feelings for Sherlock, especially since they've never met but she had to know something in order to make that statement.

_“Thank You, Dr. Watson...”_

“Please, call me John.” He cut her off softly, his mind on what Emilie could want to talk to him about involving Sherlock.

_“John...thank you. I will meet you at The Maze in Grosvenor Square, say about forty-five minutes to an hour?”_

John heard the question in her voice as he glanced up at the clock. “I'll be there, ummm, how, uh, how will I know who it is I'm looking for?” John started at her light laugh.

_“I'll be seated at the bar, just ask for me when you check in at the front door.”_

Taking a deep breath, John released it softly. “Ok, uh, I'll be there shortly then.”

_“Good bye, John and again, thank you for meeting with me.”_

After the call had disconnected, John stared at the receiver. Replacing it back in the cradle, he looked down at the invitation sitting on his desk. He put the letter back into its envelope then put it and the invitation back into the larger envelope in front of him. Pausing, John took out the smaller envelope and put it inside his coat pocket. He would still need to show Mary the invitation but didn't want her to see the letter from Sherlock.

Pushing back his chair and standing up, he glanced at the clock, ten till two. Before leaving, John grabbed his keys and cell, buzzed his assistant to let her know he was going out then headed out the door. Hailing a cab, he told the driver the name of the restaurant and sighed as they pulled off. Looking out of the cab window's, John didn't notice the shops or people they drove past. His thoughts were on the mysterious woman who had called him, the woman who was currently engaged to Sherlock, who was the mother of his child. He jerked when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, pulling it out he noticed a text from an unknown number.

**Come to Baker Street, it would be far less intrusive and is much better suited for the conversation we must have.**

John frowned, had Emilie changed her mind? And why Baker Street, why not keep their current plans to meet at The Maze? John wasn't sure he'd be able to handle seeing Emilie and Sherlock together right now. _But what if he's the one who wants to see me? What if this is his way of..._

**You do not have to stay, if you do not wish too. Just merely want to talk to you. - SH**

Same number but this message ended with Sherlock's initials. With shaky fingers, John sent back a reply, telling the cab driver about the abrupt change of plans as well. When he started grumbling, John looked up frowning. “Sorry mate, wife changed her mind, I'm sure you know how it can be.” When he received a head nod and knowing smirk, John went back to his phone and typed in a message.

**Be there shortly, had to change route. - JHW**

He wasn't sure who or what to expect but he was honest enough to admit he wanted it to be Sherlock and Sherlock alone. He wasn't sure he could handle seeing them both together, happy, and in love. John's hand clenched against his thigh as he tried to keep his thoughts from becoming to negative. He kept repeating Sherlock's words in his head, reminding himself that he just had to have faith and that he wasn't going through this alone. It wasn't until the cab pulled up in front of 221B, did John's nerves start to take over. What if this was Sherlock's way of saying good-bye? What if this was his way of telling him that he loved him but was not in love with him? What if...

“John?”

John's head jerked up and his thoughts skidded to a halt as he looked into the surprised face of Mrs. Hudson. Giving her a warm smile, he paid the driver and stepped out of the cab. “Afternoon, Mrs. Hudson. How are you doing today?” He walked up to the door and gave her a hug and a small buss on the cheek.

“Oh, John, it's so good to see you! I've been wondering when you were going to come around, I've asked Sherlock but he's never really answered me. The poor dear, he seems to be stressed over the simplest things now days...” She drifted off at the sound of voices from upstairs. Turning to glance behind her, she nodded her head then turned back to John. “You two need to talk and make sure that you listen to each other instead of shouting.” Mrs. Hudson gave John a smile and tight hug. “You two would have been so perfect together, John.” She whispered sadly. “I could have sworn...”

“Mrs. Hudson?”

John looked around the petite woman in front of him to see a tall, blond woman with ice green eyes and a warm almond complexion. _This must be Emilie, Sherlock's fiancee._ John couldn't take his eyes off her as she slowly descended the stairs. _She is beautiful, almost like..._ John's thoughts paused when he heard a deep, familiar voice.

“Em, is everything alright?” Sherlock called down the stairwell.

“Yes, it seems Mrs. Hudson has found our lunch guest.” Emilie said with a smile. “Dr. Watson...John...so glad you could meet me here first.” She walked up to the blond man watching her, a smile on her face. Emilie's gaze quickly scanned the broad shouldered man standing in front of her, taking in the blond hair, tan face, and the bright, intelligent sky blue eyes.

“Lady St. Cyr, I-I mean Emilie, my apologies if I'm late.” John couldn't help but glance behind Emilie, up towards the landing. He could see a shadow of someone but he wasn't sure if it were Sherlock or someone else. He turned his gaze back to Emilie and Mrs. Hudson, who was smiling at him as if she knew a secret and wasn't sharing.

“Well now, I'm off to lunch with my friend, Mildred. I will see you all for dinner later, Emilie?” Mrs. Hudson looked up at the taller woman, waiting for her answer.

“If all goes well, yes, we will join you for dinner.” Emilie smiled at the older woman. Giving her a small hug as she nodded her head in approval and then turned to leave the building.

“John, if you're hungry, we can eat here. I wasn't to sure if there was anyone with you or if someone was listening on your phone but please, come upstairs and let's talk.” Emilie looked at the tan face in front of her. She didn't miss the way the sky blue eyes darted up towards the landing then back to her. Smiling, Emilie extended a hand, grasping John's wrist and pulling him up the stairs. “Come, I'm sure Shezza is about to lose his mind if we stand here any longer.”

“ _That_ , is a gross exaggeration of the situation. I can not lose something that has clearly been with me for years.”

This time, when John's gaze moved up towards the door, it was held by a pair of ice blue eyes. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he and Emilie walked the last few steps up to the landing. “Sherlock...” John said softly, his blue gaze on the curly headed man in front of them.

“Hello, John.” Sherlock's gaze moved over the blond man in front of him, taking in the bags under his eyes, the tired droop of his shoulders, and the nervous smile on his face. “It is good to see you.” Sherlock could feel his pulse racing through his veins. It had been two weeks since John returned from his honeymoon and Sherlock hadn't been able to bring himself to call him. Not until Emilie had asked about the engagement invites, he'd given in to sentiment and written John a short note with his. Making sure it was sent to his office and not his flat. “Emilie said we would be having someone over for lunch, I did not know it would be you.”

John looked at Emilie then back to Sherlock. “I don't..what do you mean? I-I thought you knew. The text messages...”

“You would not have been able to come to Baker Street if Sherlock had requested it, John, so _I_ sent them as Sherlock.” Emilie flushed under the hard look Sherlock gave her. “I apologize, Shezza, you just seemed so _unhappy_ since he's been back. A-and I know how it must feel...”

“You should have talked to me about this first.” Sherlock stated sharply, his temper flaring. “John has a life he has to attend to as well, we simply can not...” Sherlock tried to control the tremor in his voice as he looked at Emilie.

“I've been waiting to hear from you, actually.” John said softly. He kept his gaze on the tall, pale man standing in front of him. Taking in the dark circles under his eyes and the loss of weight, replaced with more muscle than before. When he looked back up into Sherlock's face, anger surged through him at the fact that Emilie had to contact him in Sherlock's place. “Why in the _bloody_ hell haven't I heard from you, Sherlock? Have you been that busy that you couldn't call o-or send a text?” John tried to keep the hurt and anger out of his voice but knew he'd failed by the look that appeared in Sherlock's eyes. Taking a deep breath, John stepped towards him, “I-I'm sorry, really, I am, it's just...it's been a-a bit of a strain, the past couple of weeks...”

“Why don't we go inside and talk, you two obviously have missed each other and this would be good for you both.” Emilie moved past Sherlock, pulling John behind her and into the flat. She tugged him into the living room, leading him towards his old chair. “I'll be right back, John. Have a seat, I'm sure you don't have long for lunch so we will make this quick.” When he nodded, Emilie released his wrist then turned back to where Sherlock stood.

John watched as Emilie walked back over to the tall, pale man standing in the doorway, watching as she spoke to him softly. He wondered what was said between them, why was Sherlock so upset about seeing him? He couldn't help the questions running through his head as he watched the couple. He looked at them both closely, noting the space between them. Heads bowed towards each other, expressions tight as they argued softly. John watched them until Emilie lifted her hands and framed Sherlock's face. Quickly looking down, John tried to control the roll of jealous anger that moved through his stomach. Looking back up at them from underneath his lashes, he watched as Emilie leaned forward and gave Sherlock a gentle brush on his lips. He looked away once she pulled back and looked towards him.

“John, if you will forgive me, I have a previous engagement but Sherlock is more than willing to take my place as your lunch date...if you're still free?” Emilie looked over at John and gave him a small smile.

John nodded, his gaze on the man standing with his head bowed, his bright gaze focused on the floor. “If, uh, if Sherlock doesn't mind. I'm free for as long as he would like.” John tried to hold back the small wince at the sound of his voice. He sounded breathless and entirely to eager to be alone with someone else's fiancee!

Emilie nodded, tilting her head at the softly murmured statement from Sherlock. “We can talk later on, you need to sit down and talk to him.”

“Emilie...” Sherlock started shakily. He didn't trust himself alone with John, not right now. Not when both their emotions were running so close to the surface. “I don't...”

“You do, sweetheart, you do, ok? I understand Sherlock, remember our talk?” When he nodded, Emilie smiled and moved her hands to his wrists. “Come, he's been waiting for you and you for him. Sit down and talk to each other, I will see you once I return.” She leaned up and gave him another gentle brush across his lips. “This is your home, you are safe here and he loves you. You do not have to hide, Shezza.”

Sherlock nodded, trying to control the emotional overload he was experiencing. He had been more than surprised to find John standing behind Emilie. He'd known the exact date and time John and Mary's plane had landed and when they had been picked up and dropped off at home. He'd wanted to go check on him, to see for himself that John was ok but he'd stayed at home and reacquainted himself with his son. Now, standing in the doorway of his flat, Sherlock glanced over at John and sighed. After having seen John and Mary in Paris, they had left on the next available flight. Sherlock stating he needed to get back for a case and Ford needed to be registered for school. “What do I say to him. Obviously, he's upset with me...”

“And well he should be, I'm still not to happy with you myself but again, he loves you. You can see it on his face when he looks at you. Trust in that, yell, shout, cry, do whatever you need to do, in order to feel better. The sooner you two can refocus yourselves, the sooner we can get this all taken care of and you two can be together.” Emilie smiled at the short nod he gave her. “It will be ok, Sherlock. Now, I must go and pick up Ford from school. Would you like anything on our way back?”

“No, I...no, thank you. I'm sure we will find something here.” Sherlock looked up at Emilie then glanced over at John. “You will let me know when your both on your way back?”

“Yes, an hour or two, maybe more. Take all the time you need, Sheeza, I'm sure he is more than willing to stay for as long as you want him to.” Emilie hugged Sherlock once, then turned and walked towards the door. “Dr. Watson, forgive me, John, I'm sure that after today, you'll have more questions than answers. Some, Sherlock can not give without me, others you already know yet don't remember as of yet.” Emilie turned to look at John. She gave him a sad smile. “It is unfortunate, _Captain_ , that we are meeting, yet again, under these circumstances. Especially due to the involvement of Colonel Moran. He never was a very good commanding officer but...” Emilie sighed, “Forgive me, I must go, John, do not judge Sherlock to harshly until you've had a chance to hear him out fully.” She turned to Sherlock and nodded, “Two hours.”

Sherlock nodded in return, “Two hours.” She would give them two hours to figure out where things stood with them. Were they going to be able to make it through this or not? Sherlock didn't know but he hoped that in the end both he and John were stronger for all that they were about to go through.

John looked between the two, confused by Emilie's words. “Wait, what do you mean by meeting again? D-do I know you?” John scanned Emilie's face, something about her eyes...her voice... “I-I saw you,” John's gaze narrowed on Emilie. “In Paris, I could have sworn I saw both of you...”

Emilie smiled, “You were right, Sherlock, he is rather brilliant himself.” She gave his arm a gentle squeeze and left the room. “I see why you are enamored of him.”

“You were in Paris then, right?” John turned to Sherlock, anger slowly coiling in his stomach. He watched as Sherlock avoided his gaze, looking everywhere around the room but at him.

“Tell him the truth Sheeza, lies is what started this mess to begin with!” Emilie shouted the statement up the stairs then closed the door with a soft click.

“Sherlock, were you and Emilie in Paris or not. Because I could have swo...”

“Yes.” Sherlock said softly, his anger beginning to heat as he tried to forget the images of John wrapped around Mary. The way they had clung to each other, pressed against the cab as if nothing and no one else mattered.

John stumbled to a halt. “But...what the bloody hell for? Why would you not tell me you were there?”

“I needed to make sure that you were ok, John. I had to see for myself that Mary hadn't hurt you.” The words came out tight as Sherlock glanced at John, then turned and headed towards the kitchen. He didn't want to have this conversation with John but it looked like it was going to be inevitable. He saw the impending anger before it even fully registered with the other and decided he needed something to occupy his hands. Giving him a chance to reorganize his thoughts and emotions.

“If that were the case, you would have contacted me as soon as I got back into town!” John could feel his anger beginning to boil just below the surface of his control. “You're standing here telling me, that you followed me to Paris. _While_ I was on my honeymoon, which by the way, was _bloody boring._ ” John glared at Sherlock. “You show up in Paris, with your current... _fiancee_...who, by the way, just so happens to remind me of someone I once knew back when I was serving in the military!” John had followed Sherlock into the kitchen, watching as he moved around the room, getting the items out for tea. He was shaking with the effort to remain calm. His temper slowly unraveling as he remembered the joy Mary took in telling him about Sherlock's son. “Then, the icing on the _fucking_ _proverbial cake_ , is that I find out, from... _Mary_...of all people, that you have a son! A _son_ , Sherlock, that I, as your best friend, the man you claim to love, did not bloody know about!” John shouted the last sentence at the tall brunette, watching the way his shoulders tensed, his entire body going stiff as a marble statue.

“Yes, John, I have a son.” Sherlock slammed the teapot down on top of the stove. “I have a five years old son, whose name is Sherringford, and I was wrong for not telling you about him sooner but I will not compromise his safety for anyone...not even you!” Sherlock yelled back, his anger and frustration showing through. “ _You_ , married this woman, John, not me! I am simply doing what is best to solve the case and try to survive the resulting fallout of mistakes not taken care of sooner! Yes, I bloody well was in Paris and yes I was with Em and Ford! How else was I supposed to make sure you're safe? Then you get back and do not call or text, how would it look for me to make the first move? I'm not even sure I could have unless told it was ok. Especially since I'm such a high functioning sociopath who knows nothing about the rules of society!” Sherlock had turned and was glaring at John, his anger full on now as he stood in front of him and let everything out. “You have _no right_ to judge me, nor be angry for something that happened long before you. You have yet to be told the full story as to _why_ you do not know about them and yet you seem to think _I_ have wronged _you_ in some way! _You...left...me_ , John...” Sherlock couldn't hide the hurt he still felt, the pain of being rejected, again, for someone far less superior but yet again, he was the one left feeling as if _he_ were lacking in some way. “You left me, for her, so what gives you the _bloody_ right to come in here and jud...” He was cut off by a hard, angry kiss, moaning when John increased the pressure.

This isn't what he'd wanted to do, he hadn't meant to take his anger and frustrations out on Sherlock, it wasn't his fault. So he grabbed him and kissed his angry words into silence, increasing the pressure until Sherlock was moaning and pressed against him. “I'm sorry,” John mumbled against Sherlock's lips. “God, Sherlock, I-I'm sorry. I just...we need to talk. About everything this time, we can't...if we're going to do this we need to make sure we're both on the same damn page, yeah?” John held the pale face in his hands, shaking as he tried to regain some sense of calm. “Sherlock...”

Sherlock nodded his head, not trusting himself to say anything right then. He slowly pulled back from John, turning back towards the stove. Taking a deep breath, Sherlock tried to stop the shaking in his hands. They had never gotten this angry with each other before. True, John had been understandably upset when Sherlock had miraculously risen from the dead. He'd even displayed his anger by hitting Sherlock, but this anger...this was something new. Glancing over at the blond standing next to him, Sherlock tried to figure out what was different, what, about John H. Watson, had changed?

“H-how about you start with telling me _why_ you followed me to Paris?” John looked over at Sherlock, noticing the pale face, tight lips, and shaking hands. Reaching over, John covered the slim, pale hands with his own, shorter, tanner ones. “Sherlock, talk to me, why exactly did you come to Paris?”

“I couldn't be sure she wouldn't hurt you. I wasn't there and I'd have no way of knowing if something had happened to you or not.” Sherlock refused to look at John, trying not to enjoy the warmth of the hands holding his. “Em and Ford were supposed to meet me here in London but because...” Sherlock broke off. How did he tell John he'd changed his plans because he was _jealous_? Jealous of Mary for being able to have John in ways that he was not.

“Because what, Sherlock, you changed your plans, why?” John tugged gently on the hands he held in his. They had both known things were going to be difficult, that this was going to be a test to their new found bond. “Come on, we're not going to get anything done in here. Let's go sit down and talk, or at the very least try to.” John pulled Sherlock towards the living room, watching him as they moved from the kitchen to the front room. John pulled Sherlock with him towards the settee, making sure to avoid looking at the wedding magazines and invitations scattered across the coffee table. Once they were both seated, John waited for an answer to his question.

“I do not trust her alone with you, John. I asked Emilie to come to London to help find Moran, besides you and your wife, she is the only other person I know that knows what he looks like. The trip to Paris had been a last minute decision, one that made me wish I had stayed in London.” His voice was tight as he slowly pulled his hands from John's. He glanced up at him from underneath his lashes, hoping he didn't see the truth behind his words.

“You saw us that night.” John paled, he'd known it was Sherlock who'd seen them. Those eyes had been unmistakable in their coloring, the intensity with which he had watched him as the car drove away. “You saw us as we were leaving the theatre, I saw you watching us when your car drove off. I thought it was just wishful thinking, that I was simply projecting my feelings for you.” When Sherlock gave him a single nod, John groaned. Standing up, he walked to the window, his back to Sherlock, and took a deep breath. “It's not easy for me either, Sherlock, to just sit here and listen to the news and see the magazine covers, or be sent engagement invites.” John let out a rough sigh as he squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. “We should have probably thought this through a little more, the consequences of what we were doing and what we are about to go through. We, uh, we should have weighed everything together and tried to decide what we would and would not be willing to handle.” John let his chin drop to his chest as he pressed a hand against the window. “We should have tried to find another way. _I_ should have tried to find another way, if I had simply left...”

“You wouldn't abandon a child, John, not if there was a possibility of them being yours and I would not ask it of you.” Sherlock stood up and moved to stand behind John. “I wouldn't ask you to leave a child of yours knowing I would never leave my son. We knew this was going to be difficult and with the addition of the children it makes it that much more dangerous. The situation has become about more than just stopping Moriarty and his band of thugs, this is now about protecting our children...our families. I left the first time for this very reason, John. To protect those I care for the most and I tried to do it alone because I didn't want to subject you to this torture. Wondering if I were ever going to come back or not.”

“Not that it worked very well, now did it? Seriously, Sherlock, I spent days...months begging you to come back, to just, not be... _dead_. Asking you for one last miracle and on the night I make plans to start over you pop up from out of no where! Then after everything, you still never mentioned the fact that you have a son and that his mother could be an assassin?!” John threw his hands up in frustration. “I can handle you going out on cases, I'm usually there with you but this...this is a whole different side of you I don't even know.”

“You know me, John, better than anyone else. If there was a reason I did not tell you about them, you know it is a good one.” Sherlock stood behind John, just out of arms reach. His ice blue gaze looked the man in front of him over from head to toe. Taking in the weight loss, fatigue, and worry. John's eyes held a haunted look that Sherlock hadn't seen since his return. “We all have a part of us that no one is privy to, even you, John.”

John frowned, his sky blue gaze staring out the window. “She is familiar, but I can't...I-I don't remember...” John said softly.

“ _Think_ , John, remember what Emilie said before she left.” Sherlock's tone was sharp, direct as he watched John go over the conversation again.

 _It is unfortunate, Captain, that we are meeting, yet again, under these circumstances. Especially due to the involvement of Colonel Moran. He never was a very good commanding officer but..._ “She used my rank, she knew I was a Captain but that's public knowledge...”

“Not the things Moran had you and your company doing.” Sherlock watched as John's frown deepened.

“There was someone who looked like her. She was beautiful, really, but there was always this sad look about her. Sebs loved it, said it was the look of the devastated and forgotten. She was ruthless, her and her group of people, they made the dirty work easier for the rest of us to stomach, even us doctors.” John let out a brittle laugh. “I didn't know you knew her...”

“Em is the one who helped save me from Victor, she is the one I told you about, the reason I got off the drugs.” Sherlock moved closer to John. He needed him to understand that Emilie meant a great deal to him as did his son but so did John. “She saved me, helped me get clean, and when I found out she was pregnant...”

“You helped her in return. Why didn't you just tell me when we first met then, I would have understood, Sherlock. I'm not that closed minded that I'd judge you for being a father.” John turned to look at Sherlock, noticing the dark circles under his eyes, the lines around his mouth, and the wild disarray of his curls. Stepping closer, John raised a hand and ran it gently through Sherlock's hair, enjoying the soft sound he emitted at the contact. “You changed your hair color,” At Sherlock's questioning look, John gave him a small smile. “In Paris, you had blond hair, like Emilie, I-I noticed the color change. Your hair is lighter in some places and still blond in others.”

“I didn't...we weren't trying to stand out while there. Emilie is not a fan of large crowds and with her families name...” Sherlock started to explain but drifted off at the look on John's face.

“You don't owe me any explanations, Sherlock. Just...no more surprises, yeah? I don't think I...” John broke off at the sound of voices in the stairwell. Glancing at the clock, he realized it was almost three thirty. “Damnit, I was only supposed to have been gone for an hour.” He muttered in irritation. Looking back up at Sherlock, he noticed his gaze was on the open doorway. When the sound of a child's laughter floated up to them, John froze, slowly moving back from the man in front of him. “Maybe, uh, maybe I should go...”

“No, John, you need to meet him. He will need to know you are someone important to me just as his mother is.” Sherlock turned his gaze back to John, a smile tilting the corners of his mouth up. “Come, I would like to introduce you to my son.” Sherlock took John's hand in his and pulled him towards the doorway. “Em...Ford?”

“Yes, Sherlock, just a moment, let me finish my phone call.” Emilie called up to them.

Sherlock nodded, watching the doorway for his son and mother. “His English isn't perfect but he's only five and has spent most of his time in Romania or France.” Sherlock glanced over at John, nervous about introducing him to Ford. Truth be told, Sherlock considered his son to be the best part of him and would be devastated if John and Ford didn't get along.

“Is he comfortable with English? My french isn't to bad but I don't really know Romanian.” John frowned, trying to remember what little french he'd learned in school and the military.

“He speaks English rather well, despite being five and like his father is fluent in more than just two languages. Don't let Sherlock fool you, John, Ford is almost as smart as his father and uncle.” Emilie walked up to the flat, a smile on her face. She laughed softly when Sherlock looked behind her, his ice blue gaze looking for his son.

“Em, where is Ford? I thought...” Sherlock broke off as he saw the dark curls peeking out from behind Emilie's legs. “Ford?”

Ford looked around his mothers legs, looking first at Sherlock then John. When John looked down at him, he ducked back behind Emilie, his hand clutching her pants tightly.

Emilie looked at John, a sad smile on her face. “My apologies, John, he's a little shy around new people. It isn't often that we come to London and it's even more rare that Ford is allowed to meet those important to his father, other than his Uncle and Gregory.” Emilie looked down behind her, ruffling the dark curls on her sons head.

John watched the interaction between them then looked over at Sherlock. He was surprised to see his bright gaze on him, not his son. “Sherlock, what's wrong?”

“He's a little shy, at first, i-if you would like to meet him, I-I'm sure I can...” Sherlock tried to explain but John cut him off with a soft sound.

“He's a child and I'm a stranger to him. I understand his reluctance to want to meet someone new.” John gave him a reassuring smile and was surprised when a small hand reached out and touched his. Turning to the child still partially hidden behind Emilie, John kneeled down and smiled. “Hello, my name is Dr. John Watson. It's nice to finally meet you, Master Holmes.” He smiled at the giggle he received from Ford.

Ford looked between Emilie and Sherlock, when they both nodded, he turned back to John.“Hello, my name is Sherringford Ananias Holmes. It is nice to meet you Dr. Watson. Are you a friend of mama and papa's? Do you know my Uncle Mycroft? Papa let me meet his friend, ummm,” He looked up at John with bright ice blue eyes as he tried to remember Greg's name.

“Gregory, sweetheart, but he said you could call him Greg.” Emilie said softly.

John froze in place, listening to the toddler in front of him. Watching, as he smiled at him once he'd asked his questions and his mother had answered the last. Shaking his head, John nodded, glancing up at Sherlock and Emilie. “Yes, I'm a friend of your parents, I have met your Uncle, and Greg and I are great friends.” John looked at Ford, not missing the dark chestnut curls, the cherubic face with a sprinkling of freckles just across the bridge of his nose, and the beautiful bow shaped mouth. John tried not to stare at him but when he looked into Ford's eyes he felt like he was looking at Sherlock and Mycroft combined. The bright ice blue eyes watched John with the same intensity that Sherlock did, when he tilted his head, his eyes went gray, almost silver. Studying John as he imagined Sherlock would have when he was five.

“John?” Sherlock looked from John to Ford then back. Glancing over at Emilie, he frowned when she smiled at him. He was at a loss as to what he should do or if he should do anything until he heard a soft chuckle from behind him. Turning back to John and Ford, he was surprised to see them sitting down together in the middle of the floor.

“Now, if you fold it this way, you'll get this corner to come out like this.” John showed Ford how to fold the paper in his hands. “If you do it like this, you'll get this shape.” He grinned when Ford repeated his actions, then looked up at John, his eyes wide with an unspoken question. “Very good, now, let's try the other side, yeah?” When the toddler nodded, John grinned, glancing up at Sherlock, he gave him a wink then looked back down at Ford.

Sherlock flushed as he watched John on the floor with his son. He was surprised to see Ford take to John with such ease. “He never gets along that quickly with someone he's never met before. It took him a while to even warm up to Lestrade.”

“John's had practice in handling not one but two Holmes brothers. So he's bound to know a few tricks to get Ford's attention.” Emilie smiled at Sherlock. “He loves you, so he's doing the one thing that most people forget to do.”

Sherlock turned to Emilie, “What is that?” His confusion at the situation clear on his face.

Emilie let out a soft laugh, “He's taking the time to learn who Ford is and taking the time to let Ford learn who he is. If he can occupy him, keep him as off balance as he keeps you, then he will have won over not only the father but the son as well.” Emilie gave him a smile then turned towards the kitchen. “I hope everyone's hungry because I'm in the mood to cook and Aveline sent me a new recipe that I'm just dying to try!”

Ford jumped up from the floor and headed towards the kitchen, half way there, he turned back to John. “We can finish the boat after dinner, yes? O-or we can finish now, I am sorry...” Ford looked from John to Sherlock then back, his eyes wide with fear.

“Ford, miere, aceasta este casa ta părintilor. Esti în sigurantă aici. El nu va fi supărat dacă nu termini imediat proiect si eu sunt sigur că Ioan nu se va supăra o mică pauză, fie.”(Ford, honey, this is your fathers house. You are safe here. He will not be upset if you do not finish your project immediately and I'm sure John won't mind a small break either.) Emilie stood in the doorway of the kitchen watching him with wide eyes. She motioned him closer, giving him a tight hug and whispering something against his hair. Closing her eyes, she let out a soft sigh as she pulled Ford into the kitchen with her.

Sherlock watched them leave the room, confused by Emilie's words. Had someone hurt Ford in the past and he hadn't been told about it? Was Ford scared of someone Emilie was dating or someone she knew? Shaking his head, Sherlock discarded that idea. He knew Emilie loved her son and would do anything for him. It wasn't until he felt John's hand on his arm did he turn back to the blond man behind him. “I apologize, John.”

“No, it's ok, uh, did I do something wrong?” John looked from the kitchen to Sherlock, confused by the expression on Emilie and Ford's faces.

“Someone is hurting my son.” Sherlock said softly. “Ford and Emilie, someone is hurting them.” He moved towards the kitchen, his focus on finding out the answer to the questions running through his head.

“Give them a few, Sherlock. Let them regroup, can you, uh, tell me what Emilie said? I didn't understand the language...”

“She told him he was safe here, this is his fathers house and he will not be punished for not finishing a project he's started.” He looked down at John, a small smile curving his lips. “She also said you probably wouldn't mind a break.”

John chuckled, “The floor was getting a bit uncomfortable.” John rubbed his lower back. He stretched out his sore muscles, missing the way Sherlock's gaze sharpened on him, how he seemed to look him over from head to toe. When he turned back towards the kitchen, Emilie was standing in the doorway.

“My grandfather, stubborn bastard that he is, is not especially nice to Ford. He feels that I should have married instead of...” She looked at Sherlock, a frown on her face. “I am sorry if we have interrupted your time together. We are going to go get something to eat, if that's ok with you, Sherlock?”

Sherlock nodded, he could see the need to escape in her eyes, the way she held her body ready to leave if needed. “We can talk once you have returned.”

Emilie nodded, “John, we apologize...”

John cut her off gently, “It's ok, I understand. Domineering parents and all, didn't help much in life but I did pretty good either way, Ford will as well.”

Emilie smiled at him. “Sherlock was right about you, Dr. Watson. There is more to you than most really know. Thank you, now if you will both excuse us.” Emilie nodded and left the room, speaking softly to Ford as they left the kitchen, getting him ready to leave the flat.

“Her grandfather is a stubborn, old bastard, one who sticks by tradition no matter who he hurts, her father, however is not.” Sherlock listened as Emilie and Ford left the flat. He turned to John, who was watching him closely. “There is something on your mind, John.” Sherlock knew he owed John some answers but wasn't sure if they would be able to talk again without shouting.

“Sherlock, has anyone ever told you that Ford looks like you? Except for the eyes, Ford looks exactly like you.” John watched Sherlock's expression as he tried to gauge his reaction. It had hit him hard when he'd seen the toddler. It was almost as if he were seeing Sherlock at the age of five or six. The only difference would have been the freckles which must have come from his mother.

Sherlock frowned, he'd heard it mentioned before but had never put any stock into anything that was said. “It's not possible for him to be my son, biologically, John. Emilie and I have never...that is, we would not...w-we do not, that is not the nature of our relationship.” Sherlock flushed as he looked away from the sky blue gaze studying him.

John frowned as he watched Sherlock's reaction. He knew that Sherlock had technically been a virgin, until their first night together. He'd never really had any type of penetrative sex until then. Deciding to leave the subject alone for now, John reached out and pulled Sherlock to him. “I've missed you.” He said softly. He didn't want to fight anymore, he just wanted to enjoy finally being able to be around Sherlock again.

Sherlock wanted to ignore the tone, to let John think that he was still upset but he couldn't deny his need for this man. “I have missed you as well, John.”

“You know, we still need to talk about things. There's a lot that we obviously think we know but don't.” John said against Sherlock's chest. He pressed a kiss against his breastbone, just above his heart. “We need to find a way to fix all of this as soon as possible.”

“Once we locate Moran and his friends, it shouldn't be much longer.” Sherlock closed his eyes as he wrapped his arms around John. He could feel the tension in the broad shoulders and slowly rubbed his hands across John's back. When he groaned softly, Sherlock smiled. “It will be difficult going through all of this. There are a lot of things that you need to know and...”

“Like what, Sherlock?” John refused to look up at him, instead he pressed his face against his chest and breathed in Sherlock's scent.

“We will speak of them later, how long can you stay?” Sherlock wanted to avoid discussing anything involving Moran, Mary, or Moriarty for the remainder of John's visit. With John here and the flat empty, he was hoping for some time alone to enjoy just being with his blogger.

John sighed against Sherlock's chest, he wanted to stay. The man holding him felt good...right...and John didn't want to let the feeling go just yet. “How long do you need me here?” When Sherlock's arms tightened around him, John knew he had his answer. “I'll be here for as long as you need me, Sherlock.”

Sherlock tried to hold back the shiver that went through him, John's words giving him hope that things would be ok with them. “I will always need you, John. There will never come a time that I will _not_ need you.” He whispered against John's hair, enjoying the scent of his shampoo.

John nodded, understanding better than Sherlock may think. There will never come a time where he will _not_ need Sherlock as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Le Caprice in Piccadilly, London http://www.le-caprice.co.uk/  
> Arlington Street London SW1A 1RJ  
> Phone:: 020 7629 2239  
> http://www.le-caprice.co.uk/menu/theatremenu/
> 
> The classic St James's restaurant, Le Caprice is close to the Royal Academy, Burlington Arcade and Bond Street and moments from Piccadilly, Mayfair and the West End.
> 
> Le Caprice’s menu features classic British, European and American favourites and its timeless black and white interior is complemented by a collection of iconic photographs by David Bailey. For your evening's entertainment, our pianist plays from 6.30pm until midnight. For more relaxed dining, the full menu is also available at the bar.


	12. Chapter 12

“Ok, well, _that_ simply means that you're not listening to what I'm asking you! If he ran out through the back how the bloody hell did he get to the front with us still standing here?!” Greg shouted at Sherlock. He was trying to curb his frustrations with the tall, pale detective but was finding it difficult in the face of John's absence. He knew it was going to be difficult working with Sherlock, mostly because he was a right git whenever John wasn't around to curb his behavior, but this...this was a whole new level of assholeness...even for Sherlock.

“If you would simply, pay attention to what I am telling you, there would be no reason for you to have to ask questions. You are far smarter than this, Lestrade, even if you do work for NSY.” Sherlock turned his back to Greg, his frustration and anger slowly consuming him. He needed some time to regroup and reorganize his mind, something he's had very little chance at doing lately.

After Emilie and Ford had left the other night, he and John had spent the time watching the telly and making small talk. They avoided talking about anything that could potentially lead to a fight. It wasn't until the second episode of The Big Bang Theory (John was a fan of Sheldon and Sherlock was a fan of Leonard), that John and Sherlock had lost interest in the show and explored their mutual interest in each other. John had Sherlock pinned to the couch, panting and moaning beneath him, scattering kisses across his face, neck, and chest. His hands were slowly sliding up and down his sides, soothing the over heated skin. Until, John's phone rang...

_“Ignore it, whoever it is will either leave a message or call back.”_ John had whispered. And Sherlock had tried, until it rang again and again it went to voice mail. Three times it happened until Sherlock had finally gotten frustrated and told John to answer it. He had known who it was, had known that their time was limited but he had still been hoping...

“Look, Sherlock, I know I'm not as smart as you or Mycroft but I'm not completely stupid, yeah? I'm no John Watson but I think I can understand you pretty well on occasion, too. Right now, however, you have me completely stumped as to how this one is supposed to work!” Greg glared at Sherlock then blinked. A smile slowly started to curve his lips upward, Sherlock's scowl darkening with the action.

“Just what, may I ask, do you find so very entertaining, Lestrade. If you can not understand that the man...”

“Well, if you're going to use that tone of voice with him, I wouldn't want to understand either.” A laughing tenor responded.

Sherlock whipped around at the sound of John's voice, the pleasure of seeing him spilling through out his system. “John...”

John grinned up at Sherlock. “I got a text saying you were out on a case with Greg. I, uh, hope you don't mind, I wanted to come by and see if I could, uh, help?” John looked from Sherlock to Greg then back. “It is ok that I'm here, yeah? I-if not...”

“Don't you _bloody_ dare leave! If I'm to get this figured out without committing a murder myself,” Greg glared at Sherlock then turned back to John. “I'm going to need _your_ help understanding this one over here!” He nodded his head towards Sherlock, his irritation with the other man clear on his face.

John couldn't hide the shocked laugh or the surprised look when he looked between the two. Greg was flushed red with frustrated anger and Sherlock was standing stiff as a statue. “Well, guess I showed up at the right time then, yeah?” John tried to hide the giddy feeling running through him. He'd been more than surprised to get a text from Emilie, then Mycroft, letting him know that Sherlock was out at a crime scene, alone...with Greg. John had immediately left the flat, it being his day off, and headed over to see if he could help. “You know, Sherlock, you could have called me, yourself, to let me know you were here.” He looked over at the silent man.

“It's an open and shut case, John. Boring to say the least, something I've been trying to tell Lestrade since he called me here...”

“But you've been a complete arse about it the entire time! You know Sherlock, you could have simply said no if you were going to be this much trouble. I just thought you needed to get out of the house for a while.” Greg frowned, glancing at John, he caught the slight nod he was given. Letting out a rough sigh, Greg ran a hand over his head and down the back of his neck. “Just, let me know what you find out, John, yeah? I'm going to go see what the other non genius' have come up with.” Greg gave Sherlock one last hard look then turned and walked away. A smile playing around his lips at the fact that Emilie or Mycroft might have had John come help them out.

“You did not have to come, I am capable of behaving myself in public, John.” Despite the tone, Sherlock was happy to see the blond. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about the other night and it was beginning to wear on his nerves. It's been awhile since he's had to worry about being deprived of John's attention and the change was difficult to get used to.

“Well, obviously, especially since you've managed to piss off Greg by insulting him...again, as well as get me called down here on my day off.” He grinned up at Sherlock, relieved when he didn't tell him to go.

Sherlock nodded, aware that Emilie or Mycroft could had sent John. “How long are you free.” His voice came out rough, edged with the frustration of having to go without John for so long. He could feel his face heating as he watched John's sky blue gaze move over him slowly. “I-I have need of your assistance later, if you are free.”

John nodded, his gaze moving over Sherlock in a slow glance. “I'm free for as long as you need me. Told everyone who needs to know that I'm out on a case with you.” John rushed out breathlessly. He could see the frustration in Sherlock's eyes, could tell by the way he was holding himself stiff and aloof from him that he needed something and John could help with what ever it was. “So you have me for as long as you need me.” John watched as Sherlock seemed to think about his words then nodded. “So, what do you need me for right now, exactly?”

_I need you to breath, to survive._ “I need you to examine the body. There is something else wrong here and without a thorough look at the body...” Sherlock looked at John, his distraction at the current moment, then another thought occurred to him. Something that had been bothering him since he'd left the other night. “John, about Ford...”

“Is he alright, nothing's happened to him has it?” John looked at Sherlock earnestly, concern and worry on his face.

“No, no nothing like that. I was just wondering, if, uh, if you would be free to watch movies with us, Ford and I, this evening?” Sherlock flushed, he knew he had no right to ask John for anything but if this gave him some time with John and his son, then he would gladly take what he could get.

John blinked, surprised at Sherlock's request. “How, uh, h-how does Ford and Emilie feel about this?” Even though Sherlock hadn't mentioned his fiancee, he was sure she would be there.

Sherlock looked away from the knowing gaze in front of him. “Em, is the one who made the suggestion. I was unsure as to how I would ask you, I did not wish to cause any trouble between you and Mary.” He looked at John from underneath his lashes, trying to figure out the myriad of emotions that flitted across the tan face. He recognized when John had made his decision, his jaw firmed and his eyes hardened with determination.

“If it means I will get to finally have some time with you then yes, I would like to join you both.” John nodded his head once, then turned to where Greg stood over the body of their latest perpetrator. “So, uh, that's the body then?” He glanced back at Sherlock, smiling at the expression on his face. “Coming, Sherlock?”

“I, uh, yes.” Sherlock was surprised by John's easy acquiescence to a movie with him and his son. “He was followed here after robbing a jewelry store earlier this morning. Lestrade had said he was babbling something about having information for me but when I arrived he was already dead.”

John stopped in his tracks as he turned to look at Sherlock. “What do you mean, you didn't help in the chase?” John frowned, that wasn't unusual but if they had information for Sherlock specifically...

“No, as I said, he was a petty thief, John, hardly worth my time. Definitely not worth my having to give up a morning breakfast with my son. It wasn't until I was told he wanted to speak with me did I come down to meet Lestrade.” Sherlock huffed in irritation. The look on Ford's face was still fresh in his mind and it bothered him to realize that he's seen it to often as of late.

“Ok, well walk and talk then, if we have a movie date with Ford we'd best get this solved as soon as possible.” John turned and headed towards Greg, a grin on his face as he heard Sherlock walking behind him.

“Is that what this is John, a movie date?” Sherlock asked softly.

John turned, smiling, “Well, maybe not really a date, per se, but we do plan on watching a movie, yeah, and with Ford?”

“Of course, I've missed quite a bit of time with him and would like to make up for that, but I have also missed time with you as well and I need to make up for that, too.” Sherlock observed the scene around them, watching as NSY detectives went about their usual duties as far as cataloging evidence and gathering information went. It wasn't until he saw a tall man with dark blond hair and dark glasses facing them, did he pause in his observations. When the man nodded and gave him a small salute, Sherlock frowned, already moving in his direction. There was something about this man, something he should know...

“Sherlock, where are you going? The body's over this...” John frowned as he watched Sherlock head towards the crowd at the edges of the crime scene. Looking through the group of people, John spotted him immediately. Blinking in surprise, he glanced over at Greg then turned back to follow Sherlock. He reached into the back of his jeans, feeling for his service revolver. Satisfied that it was safe where it was for now, he followed Sherlock as he pressed into the crowd of people vying for the detective's attention.

Sherlock ignored the people around him, his gaze focused on the blond man moving through the press of bodies. When he felt a hand grip his wrist, he simply pulled at his arm to continue his forward momentum. It wasn't until the person refused to let go did he stop and look around. Blinking, Sherlock looked down into John's steely gaze.

“I go first, you stay close but don't try anything stupid, understand?” It was his command voice, the only voice Sherlock was known to follow. When the dark head nodded, John turned and scanned the crowd again. When he spotted who he was looking for, John glanced at Sherlock then turned back around. “Come on then, send a text to Lestrade and let him know what's going on.” When he looked back behind him, Sherlock was just putting his phone away. “Do as I say Sherlock, do not be a hero, not tonight, yeah? Remember you have a movie date with Ford and I.”

Sherlock nodded, his gaze on the man in front of them. “I have not forgotten, John. We need to see where he is going and who he plans to meet.” When his phone sounded with a message he pulled it out and looked down. “Lestrade said he's on his way, to let him know where to meet us.”

John nodded as he turned back in the direction they had last seen Moran and sighed, they'd lost him, some how Moran had managed to disappear in the crowd. Looking down at his watch he frowned. “Well, let's get back to the crime scene then go get Ford. What time are you supposed to pick him up?” John grasped Sherlock's wrist gently and pulled him back in the direction they had come.

“His teacher will not release him from classes until three thirty, I believe it may be three but I will need to arrive early...” Sherlock stated absently. “They tend to talk longer than needed most times so he is usually let out once I've arrived.”

“Do you mean to tell me that your son's school rushes you off the grounds?” John tried to hide the laughter in his voice as they walked back towards the crime scene. He was stopped short however by Lestrade shouting their names.

“Oi! Just where the bloody hell have you two been? I've been trying to reach you for the past twenty minutes! Someone from Myc's office just called, said Anthea had to go pick up Ford from school but...Sherlock...Sherlock wait, you don't even know where he really is!” Greg shouted at the disappearing brunette. Looking over at John, he frowned and waved him off. “Well, go with him, if something's happened to Ford, you're the only one that can stop Sherlock from hurting anyone.”

John jerked, his gaze swinging back to Greg and the crime scene. “Right, I'll call you once I know what's going on!” John took off after Sherlock, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He watched as a cab stopped in front of the brunette, who turned and looked back at John. Without thinking, John jumped into the back of the car and waited until Sherlock got in and gave them the address for Mycroft's office. “Sherlock, what do you think happened? Why would the school not call you or Emilie instead of Mycroft?”

“In the event that I am working and Emilie is unavailable, Mycroft is emergency contact for Ford, and you, if they could not reach us they would then go to Anthea or Lestrade.” Sherlock frowned, he scrolled through the menu on his phone looking for any missed calls or texts. Until one came through from Emilie.

_**Please, Shezza, please tell me you know where my son is!** _

“Something is not right, Emilie is looking for Ford as well.” Sherlock murmured. He sent a message back to her letting her know he was on his way to pick him up from his brothers office.

“What do you mean? She wasn't called by the school?” John frowned as he looked out the window. “Uh, Sherlock, where are we, exactly?”

At John's question, Sherlock looked up and out the window. The scenery was far from what it should have been if they were headed to the government offices. Reaching over, he placed a hand on John's leg, squeezing tightly in warning. When John stiffened in response, he relaxed his hold and slowly moved his hand. Looking down at his phone, he sent a text to his brother and Emilie. Speaking quietly to John, so their driver didn't over hear, Sherlock whispered, “Send a text to Lestrade, let him know what is going on and see if he can find my son, please.”

Before John could respond, Sherlock's phone rang. “Holmes here.” He answered in as neutral a voice as possible, his nerves on edge at the thought that Ford could be in danger.

_“Sherlock, Mycroft is on the other line, he says that Anthea is standing in front of him and neither have called Greg. I dropped Ford off at a friends house for a play date. Please, tell me you know where Ford is, please tell me nothing has happened...”_ Emilie's frantic voice sounded through the earpiece of the phone.

“I am currently on my way to find out. If _he_ is with you, have him do what needs to be done and I will contact you shortly.”

_“Sherlock, is John with you as well?”_ Mycroft asked the question calmly.

“Yes, I thought one of you had made the call to have him meet me.” Sherlock glanced over at John from the corner of his eye. His mind making one deduction after another. “That obviously was not the truth of the matter.” He realized when John understood what was going on. That someone had set them up for this and was using Ford as the bait.

_“Leave your tracker on, Greg has been alerted to what's going on. I'm going to meet you as soon as I can.”_ Emilie was speaking rapidly, the sounds of objects being picked up and discarded making for her background noise.

“You have a guest arriving...” Sherlock started, his eyes quickly taking in their surroundings. They were near the Thames River, far removed from where his brother worked.

_“He's her god-son, she will understand if I do not meet her at the airport. I'm taking the bike, don't do anything rash, please.”_

_S_ herlock chuckled, the sound coming out forced and rough. “You know me, I won't make any...” His statement was cut off abruptly as the cab door was snatched open.

“Hang up the phone Mr. Holmes, there is someone who wishes to speak with you.”

Sherlock looked up into a pair of blazing ocean blue eyes. “If you and good ol' Johnny boy would follow me.” He stepped back waiting for Sherlock and John to comply.

“I will call you back...”

_“Sherlock, Sherlock no, wait, you don't know who...”_

“Hang up the phone, Mr. Holmes or I will do so for you!” Sebastian yelled. His tone brooking no argument.

Sherlock pressed the end button, his face going stiff with his anger. He placed the handset in the hand outstretched in front of him. Glancing back at John, Sherlock left the back of the cab, moving so the other man could get out as well.

“Well, well, well, hello Johnny boy. So very nice to see, never thought I _would_ ever see you again. Not after being court martialed for your lies against me!” Sebastian snarled.

John straightened up to his full height, his military training kicking in immediately. “They weren't lies, Sebastian, if they were you wouldn't have been found guilty.” His jaw clenched, he had known this was going to happen. John had known that eventually they were going to run into Moran and somethings were bound to come out. “You had us doing things that had nothing to do with the missions...”

“ _I_ was the one giving the orders, who were you, you little _prick_ , to disobey them?!” Sebastian snarled in John's face.

John didn't flinch nor move back, he simply glared at the man in front of him. His anger boiling just below the surface of his control. “You wanted us to kill women and children. I was... _am_...a doctor. I can't take an innocents life and not feel something about it!”

Sherlock watched the two men shouting next to him. He noticed the cab driver had disappeared only to be replaced by two armed thugs. Glancing at his surroundings, he took in the dilapidated buildings, the fishing boats, and the silence. There was no one around in the middle of the day. Looking back at Moran, Sherlock noticed he still held his phone in his hand. If he kept it on long enough for Emilie...

“Oh, no, don't worry Sherlock. Your beautiful fiancee will _not_ find you immediately, if at all. You see, I have someone who wants to see you and then you and I?” Sebastian motioned between Sherlock and himself. “We have some unfinished business to discuss.” Sebastian turned Sherlock's phone off, his gaze never leaving his face.

Sherlock straightened, he would not cower in the face of this man. He knew what Moran wanted to discuss or rather, _whom_ , he wanted to discuss. “He is dead, there is nothing else that need be said on the matter. If you feel that I owe you for some imagined slight then...” Sherlock's words were cut off by the hand that lashed out and slapped him hard across his face. Sherlock jerked back, bumping into John as he tried to keep his balance.

“Oi! There's no cause for that!” John turned towards Sherlock, looking at the bruise beginning to mark his face. White hot rage filled him as he turned back to Sebastian, his stance changing to make sure he can intercept any other hits intended for Sherlock.

“I loved him, you self righteous son of a bitch. Jimmy meant more to me than anything in the world and you...you arrogant bastard, took him from me!” Sebastian yelled. He let an evil grin curve his lips as Sherlock flinched back from him. “He told me you were just a distraction for him, that he had it under control and then I get told _you_ , of all people, were on the roof with him when he shot himself! _You_ , who didn't even care about him! I loved him like a brother and you took him from me! So yes, Sherlock Holmes, _I_ will be the one to burn the heart out of you, just as you and your brother have burned the heart out of me!”

Sherlock pushed back the shiver of fear that welled up inside of him. He knew it would do no good to show any type of emotion in the face of this man and he still needed to make sure that he didn't have Ford. “Where is my son, Col. Moran?”

Sebastian's grin widened. “Now, that is something I can't answer for you.” Sebastian turned and started walking away from the cab and towards an abandoned building. “There is, however, someone who can, follow me.” He walked through the doors of one of the buildings and disappeared inside.

“Sherlock, are we certain he doesn't have Ford?” John whispered. He knew that if they went inside the building and Ford was, in fact there, the risk factor was greatly increased.

Sherlock glanced over at John as they walked through the doors of the building. He looked around at their surroundings, taking in the the crumbling buildings decaying appearance. Moving gingerly over the broken cement, Sherlock kept his gaze on the distant figure of Moran. “He's not here, if he were Moran would have said so. He is the type to enjoy inflicting pain anyway possible.” Sherlock went silent as they continued walking. “Before we got disconnected, Em said I didn't know who I was dealing with.” He whispered to John.

“She's right, you can't be left alone with him for any reason.” John looked around them, making sure to take notice of any possible escape routes. When Sherlock headed down a corridor with no lights, John let out a small hiss of breath. “You crazy git, just where the hell are you going?”

“I want to know who would go through all of this to get my attention. Who would want to threaten Ford in order to reach me?” Sherlock whispered to John. When they cleared the small hallway, they found themselves in a brightly lit room. The sound of fans and running machinery, echoing in the space around them. Looking at the center of the room, Sherlock noticed an empty hospital bed. He then noticed the desk off to his right and the thug sitting behind it, dressed in all black. To his left was a small booth and another thug dressed in similar attire.

“Wondering who occupied it, aren't you?” Sebastian sneered from behind them. “Oh, and Johnny boy, I need your phone, too. Even if Emilie does show up she'll be to late to stop what's about to happen anyway.” Sebastian let out a loud, raucous laugh, taking John's phone and walking away.

“Just what the hell did that mean? What exactly is going on here, Sherlock?” John looked around them, trying to find any type of escape route. It wasn't until the sound of a door opening on the far side of the room did John turn his gaze back towards Sherlock. Looking up at the usually pale face, John started when he saw fear and something else in those ice blue eyes. Reaching out for him, John placed a hand on Sherlock's arm. “Hey, Sherlock, what is it, what's going...”

“Ah, how very touching, almost sweet. Dr. Watson, I presume. You look very different in person than you do in your pictures. Not a huge disappointment, actually, I find it rather refreshing to find someone who looks better than their photos.”

John's eyes snapped over to the man standing in the doorway. “And who would you be?” John glanced at Sherlock then back to their unknown guest.

“He is Marcus Magnussen, your wife's boss.” Sherlock said softly. He kept his gaze on Magnussen. “Where is my son, Magnussen? You obviously brought us here for a reason, if not to tell me where he is then why are we here.” Sherlock already knew the answers to his questions, already knew that Magnussen didn't actually have Ford but that didn't stop him from playing the game.

“Ah, the beautifully arrogant yet intelligent, Sherlock Holmes. Hello, Sherlock, I see my warnings were not heeded by you or the good doctor.” Magnussen looked at Sherlock with knowing eyes. His gaze moved over the tall brunette, not missing a single detail.

Sherlock took a small step back towards John, there was only one person who had ever called him that. One person who would say that, then follow the statement with pain and humiliation. Sherlock tried to keep his composure as he felt John's hand at the small of his back. “Where is my son, Magnussen?”

“Oh, how rude of me, did I not tell you he wasn't here? Well, he isn't here, Sherlock, he's still at his little play date from earlier today. Very beautiful child as well, amazing how well your genes and Emilie's seem to mix. To bad he will never know the truth, however.” Magnussen shook his head in a sad imitation of regret.

“Just what the bloody hell are you on about? If you don't have Ford, why, exactly are we here?” John growled low in his throat. He could feel the tension radiating from Sherlock, felt his uneasiness and wanted to sooth it all away.

“Well, Dr. Watson if you _really_ must know? I will tell you myself.” A soft tenor floated around the room.

Sherlock went stiff at the sound of that voice, his face paling and his body going cold. This was the wrong day for surprises, especially bad ones. Looking up to the second landing, Sherlock took an involuntary step back. When John grasped his arm he didn't notice, his gaze was locked on the man staring down at him. Bright, golden eyes watched him with a knowledge that made Sherlock tremble. When the man stepped out of the shadows and into the light, Sherlock felt the air freeze in his lungs.

“Hello, Sherlock, still as beautiful as I remember. I wonder, is Emilie?”

Sherlock tried not to flinch back from the words but could tell that he hadn't succeeded when John's hand pressed tightly against his back. He tried to control the shiver of fear that raced down his spine as he looked up into the face of his ex, Victor Trevor.


	13. Chapter 13

John looked at the tall, pale man in front of them, taking in the bright golden eyes, the pale face, framed by a head full of dark blonde curls, and a smirk that curved lips almost as lush as Sherlock's. Glancing up at Sherlock, John was surprised to see how pale he was. Moving to stand closer to him, John turned his attention back to the man in front of them, his gaze narrowing as he walked closer. “And who might you be?” John spoke in a low tone, his voice having taken on a dangerous edge.

Victor glanced over at John then turned his gaze to Sherlock. “Mmm, rather forceful, this one, but then, you always did like to be dominated, didn't you, love?” He slid a gloved hand gently down Sherlock's cheek once he was close enough to touch him.

He stopped directly in front of Sherlock, his golden gaze moving over him with a familiarity that made Sherlock shiver. He tried not to flinch back from the man in front of him, tried not to let to much show to the man behind him. Stiffening his back, Sherlock held Victor's gaze. “There is a difference between dominance and force, Victor. You never could tell the difference between the two.”

Victor's gaze narrowed at Sherlock's words. “You say that because he is standing here next to you but if it were you and I, alone, what would you say then, my beautiful violinist? Would you be so snarky and disrespectful then?” Victor grabbed Sherlock's chin, squeezing painfully. Watching with pleasure as the pale skin turned red and tears bloomed in the ice blue eyes. “I see some things have not changed.” He whispered cruelly, smiling at the small sound of pain that Sherlock let slip out.

“Take your hands off of him.” John's tone had changed, his voice having dropped an octave. He watched as Victor had grabbed Sherlock's face hard enough to bruise. When he took a step forward, he was stopped by the sound of Sebastian's voice.

“Now, now, now Johnny boy, this is between Sherlock and his ex-boyfriend. After which, he and I are going to have a little conversation ourselves.” Sebastian stood to Victor's left, watching both men in front of him with a grin on his face. “Unless, Johnny, you would like to take his place? See how long you can go now that you've adjusted to civilian life.”

John glared at Sebastian, his stance having taken on a more combative position. “If it's a fight you're after Sebastian, then by all means, let's have a go, shall we? You seem determined to take out some anger and frustration so how about I help you with that, hmmm?”

Sebastian laughed out loud, the sound echoing off the walls around them. “Always were a fighter, weren't you Johnny boy? Makes one wonder what it is you see in the little pale fish next to you? Honestly Johnny, I would have been...”

Victor cut Sebastian off with a soft sound and harsh look.“You see, Dr. Watson, Sherlock has always enjoyed a strong hand. Even in the bedroom and Emilie as well.” Victor tilted his head slightly in thought. “Well, she had to be taught how to enjoy it but once I broke her...”

“You raped her, Victor. You didn't break her to anything, you raped her and...” Sherlock's words were cut off by a hard backhand across the face. He stumbled back, the slap snapping his head to the side. Forcing himself to remain upright, Sherlock turned a glare on the man in front of him. “You no longer have the power to hurt me, Victor, nor can you hurt Emilie either.”

Victor's gaze narrowed into bright, golden slits. “Ah, but I do, Sherlock. What about my son, if I choose to come for Sherringford, will it hurt then? Do I have the power then?” Victor's tone had taken on a dark edge, the usually smooth, aristocratic voice had lost all traces of its former elegance.

Sherlock felt his blood turn cold, his gaze narrowed on the threat in front of him. His mind ran through all the possible ways Victor could know about Ford. Then moved to all the ways he could protect his son. “Ford is not your son, Victor, he is mine and you can not have him or Emilie.”

Victor let out a harsh bark of laughter. “You think you can stop me? He may not be mine, _biologically,_ but he is still my son! I will not allow him to be raised by you or that aristocratic, gypsy whore. I will see you bo...”

Before Victor could finish his statement, Sherlock had reached out with both hands, wrapping his long, slim fingers around Victor's throat and squeezing. He squeezed as tight as he could, remembering all the times he'd hurt him and then Emilie. Sherlock squeezed because the threat to his son had presented itself and he needed to eliminate it. “I will kill you with my bare hands, Victor, before I let you anywhere near _my son_!” Sherlock snarled. His rage shown bright in his eyes as he glared down at the man in front of him. “I will see you in hell before you will ever get a chance to come near Ford.”

Victor choked out a harsh laugh. “S-so I see h-heaven's angel has a l-little devil in him now.”

Sherlock growled low in his throat, his vision turning red with his rage. This man...this man who had hurt him and his friend now threatened his son. “You don't know just how far from heaven I've fallen, Victor...” Sherlock's words were cut off by the sound of a soft click. Turning his head to the side, he saw Magnussen standing behind John, a gun pressed against the back of his head.

“Let Mr. Trevor go, Mr. Holmes.” Magnussen watched both men with cold sky blue eyes. “I deplore such tactics, there is truly no cause for such aggressive tones or behavior. I find that it is far easier to simply ask for what it is I want.” He pressed the gun harder against the back of John's head. “Do not think, Sherlock, that I do not know your pressure points.” His blue gaze slowly moved over Sherlock, “I know all of your pressure points and I, unlike Mr. Trevor or Col. Moran, have no qualms with using each and everyone of them. Now, if you and Dr. Watson will excuse us, we have a prior engagement to attend to. I will make sure that you arrive back at 221B unharmed and will have your beautiful fiancee and son informed of your impending arrival.”

“You will stay away from...” Sherlock took a step forward but the gun, now pressed hard enough against the back of John's head that he bowed slightly, made Sherlock pause when he heard the hammer click into place. He took a small step back, his heart racing as he tried to keep his focus. They've been here before. John, standing in front of him with a bomb strapped to his chest and Moriarty standing behind him, a gun pressed against the back of his head. Looking around at the three men in the room, Sherlock went over his options. He could either take out Victor first, who after all these years was still as strong as ever. Take on Moran, if possible, but even with Sherlock's knowledge and fighting technique, he wasn't an equal match for someone with Moran's military training or strength. That left Magnussen, who currently had him by using John as a human shield.

“Well now, will you look at that, I see Johnny boy has learned to take charge in more places than the battlefield.” Sebastian said crudely.

“Fuck off, Sebastian, if there wasn't a gun to my head I'd show you just how much I dominate off the battlefield, you sadistic prick.” John glared at the former colonel, not missing the maniacal gleam in his eyes.

“Sorry Johnny, but your boy and I have a few things we need to talk about and you're not welcomed along for the ride. We'll make sure you get back home safely but as for your little fuck toy here...”

“Fuck you! There's no bloody way in hell I'm letting you anywhere near Sherlock alone!” John turned towards Moran, forgetting momentarily that there was a gun pressed against the back of his head. “I know how you are, these other two bastards may not but I remember the hell you're capable of putting people through. If you think, for one second, I'm going to just let you walk out of here with Sherlock...”

“You have no other choice, Dr. Watson. There are business matters that need to be discussed and you are simply not needed right now.” Magnussen said softly. He lifted the hand holding the gun and brought it down against the back of John's head. He watched with an impassive face as John slowly sank to the ground with a soft groan. Looking up at Sherlock, Magnussen sighed. “Now, Sherlock, if you and Sebastian can behave long enough for us to finish our conversation, you and Dr. Watson will be allowed to leave, unharmed.”

Sherlock glanced down at John's still figure lying on the ground. “Some how, I do not believe you.” He said softly. His mind was on his son and if he were safe. Had Lestrade and Mycroft been able to find him, was he with Emilie or was she on her way here?

Magnussen gave him a small smile. “If there were any other way to get him to comply, I would have taken that option but you know as well as I do that Dr. Watson is a man of action. He is more than willing to throw himself in front of a bullet to protect those he loves. Even if it means that he will lose his own life because of it.”

Sherlock looked up from John's prone figure to Magnussen. The look in his eyes made Sherlock shiver. Turning to Moran, who still watched him with a smirk, Sherlock glared back in return. He knew what men like Moran were like, knew what they were capable of and how to handle them. The fact that he was out numbered but not out smarted didn't particularly bother him, the fact that he wouldn't be able to protect John if the need arose had him worried. Deciding to ignore Moran for the moment, Sherlock turned his gaze to the last person in the group. Victor, who stood looking at him, his face now unreadable as he watched in silence. Turning back to Magnussen, Sherlock waited for him to continue with what he was saying.

“Col. Moran does have a decidedly understandable reason as to why he would wish you harm. After all, you were the last one to see Mr. Moriarty alive.”

“You may as well have pulled the trigger yourself, you scrawny fucker.” Sebastian snarled. He looked at Sherlock, the grin on his face making him look more demented than before. “I've had enough of this, either we're going to do what we came here for or we're going to end things now.”

“No...we can't just...I _need_ the boy. He is the only heir I have to my families title and if I can't produce him...” Victor started, his tone petulant and angry.

“I don't really give a flying fuck about what you or your family wants, this scrawny bastard owes me a life. He took someone I loved, I will take someone he loves.” Sebastian moved around Magnussen and stood over John. “Tell me, Mr. Holmes, just how much do you love your army doctor? Are you willing to give your life for his?” He stared at Sherlock, watching him with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

Sherlock refused to show any type of emotion, he would not give these men the satisfaction of knowing they had him in the worst place ever. His answer, however, was the same one he gave Moriarty at the pool. “My answer has already crossed your mind so it would be pointless to give you an answer.” He watched as Magnussen nodded then turned and walked towards the other end of the room.

“Have your little talk with Mr. Holmes, Colonel, just make sure that once you are done, he leaves here alive and in one piece.” Magnussen turned back to look at Moran. “The same goes for Dr. Watson, if they are harmed you will regret it, do I make myself clear...Sebastian?” Magnussen watched Moran with a blank look on his face. The blasé attitude was belied by the look of intense rage and anger in the sky blue eyes.

Sebastian's lips curled in a scowl. “Why can I not have the fun that I wanted to have? This scrawny son of a bitch owes me! He took Jim from me and he owes me...” Sebastian's anger could be seen all over his face, heard in every word that left his mouth.

“I understand that but if you do not follow my instructions, it will not be Mycroft Holmes you will have to worry about, do you understand?” Magnussen held the angry glare of the other man, waiting patiently for an answer.

“Yeah, fuck, fine I'll let them both go once I'm done with them, alive and in one piece.” Sebastian snarled. He watched as Magnussen nodded then turned and headed towards the door on the other side of the room.

“Victor, if your little... _cocktail_...kills him,” Magnussen turned to level his gaze on Victor. “I will make sure that not only you but your entire family is ruined.” Magnussen silently opened the door and left as if nothing had been said or done.

Sherlock looked between Victor and Moran, he knew he wouldn't be able to take them both and if what Magnussen said was true...

“Come now, Sherlock, remember how we used to love sharing cocktails?” Victor walked towards Sherlock, a syringe held in one had. He stopped when John let out a soft groan. “Perfect, the good doctor will get a lesson on how to control you.”

Sherlock took an involuntary step back, trying to ignore the curl of fear tightening his stomach. He remembered the drug fueled nights with Victor, how they would spend most of their time high, exploring each others bodies. Sherlock had tried to forget those times, the times when Victor would use him then beat him and Sherlock would still stay. He had stayed because he didn't think he could go home again. Not after the last time he'd seen his brother, not when he'd stolen his wallet and their father's watch...all for a hit. He tried not to focus on the syringe, knew that if he could get it away from Victor...

“Up and at 'em, Johnny boy! We have a little surprise for you!” Sebastian jerked John up from the floor, shaking him awake roughly.

Sherlock watched as John's head lolled back and forth with the force of Moran's actions. Finally, after about five minutes, John was able to stand up on his own, even if he did sway slightly. “John?” Sherlock couldn't help it, he needed to be sure that John was ok, that nothing else was going to take him by surprise.

“Y-yeah,” John said weakly. “See we still have company, right?” He squinted at Sebastian then Victor, not missing the syringe in his hand. “Uh, w-who is that for?” He gestured to the needle, a frown beginning to form on his face.

“Finally! We've been waiting for you to join the party, Johnny boy!” Sebastian glared at the two men. Turning to Victor, he snarled. “Do what the fuck you need to so we can leave. There's something I have to take care of later.”

John looked between them then to Sherlock. He didn't miss the bruises slowly purpling on his face, nor did he miss the naked fear in his eyes. It hit him then, the syringe was for Sherlock. “Oh, god...” John whispered, he could feel the room swaying as he tried to remain upright, the light ringing in his head was slowly lessening but it didn't help with his headache.

Victor walked over to Sherlock, jerked on his arm and slid up his sleeve. “I truly wish I didn't have to do this to you, Sheeza, but you won't obey any other way and if you're wanting to see Dr. Watson alive...” Victor watched as Sherlock kept his gaze on John, anger and betrayal washing over him. “You owe me far more than you do him, yet you remain loyal to a man who married another woman while professing to love you! You should have listened to me, Sheeza, all those years ago, you should have listened...”

Sherlock didn't flinch when the needle was pressed into his arm. He kept his gaze on John, wanting to make sure that nothing else happened to him. When John turned worried sky blue eyes towards him, he gave him a small smile, then gasped as Victor injected the heroine into his system. He could feel his vision going fuzzy and his body getting heavy. He watched the look on John's face change from one of worried concern to angry fear. “D-don't worry, Jaaawwwwnnn. 's ok to feel soooooo good.” Sherlock slurred the words, trying desperately to hold on, to not let the drug take him under, back to a place he'd fought so hard to leave behind him. When he felt an arm around his waist, he turned to see Victor smiling at him. “V-victor? What, w-where is Emilie? Y-you didn't hurt her again, did you?” Sherlock looked at the man in front of him with wide unseeing eyes.

“Sherlock?” John watched as the heroine took over, the usually bright eyes were now dilated and unfocused, the pale skin was flushed a light red and his breathing was faster than normal. Glancing over at Sebastian, he tried to push back the rage that threatened to cloud his vision. Sebastian was grinning from ear to ear as Victor spoke softly to Sherlock, reminding him of things that he never should have to remember. “Leave him alone you son of a bitch.” John could still feel the heaviness of his limbs as he tried to focus his mind on the situation at hand. He needed to be able to handle Sebastian as well as get himself and Sherlock out safely. He felt and heard Sebastian moving towards him, long before he saw him. So when the swing came, John was prepared for it. Blocking it easily, John responded with a punch of his own, pleased when it connected with flesh and Sebastian let out a harsh groan. Shaking his head, John watched as Sebastian circled him, listening to him taunt him about Sherlock and what he planned to do to him.

“Well, well, well Johnny boy. I had no idea you would fight so hard for your little fuck toy. Maybe I should have a go at him, see why you and Victor here are so obsessed with him.” Sebastian let out a cruel laugh as he watched Victor and Sherlock. “I just might wait until Victor gets done before I have a go though, I like my partners coherent and fighting.”

John tried to hold back the snarl that rose in his throat. “I'll see you both in hell before I let anything like that happen.” He watched as Victor slid a hand into Sherlock's hair, gripping tight enough to make Sherlock gasp in pain.

Victor laughed, a light sound that sent shivers down John's spine. “Dr. Watson, what makes you think that Sherlock would be let you harm me? He knows the consequences of not following my rules, don't you Sheeza?” He pulled Sherlock's head back, jerking hard on the curls. He let out a pleased laugh when Sherlock let out a whimper of pain. “Don't keep the good doctor waiting for an answer, love. Tell him what happens if you don't obey my rules.”

Sherlock tried to bite back the sound that rose up in him, tried to keep from showing his weakness in front of this man but he was failing. Whatever was in the cocktail, it wasn't Victor's usual mix, this was something stronger, more potent. Glancing at Victor then to John, he did as commanded. “Victor doesn't like to be d-disobeyed. Punishment c-can be anywhere from denial of the next hit t-to a beating, if it is so warranted.” Sherlock finished breathlessly. He watched John, praying that he would forgive him once this was all over. “John...I,” He broke off with a gasp as his head was jerked back harder. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes as he tried to control his response. He knew if Victor so much as picked up on his pain he would use it against him.

“Did I say you could speak to him? He means to _harm_ me, is that what you want to happen, Sherlock? To see me harmed by someone who doesn't love you, someone who left you for another? Are you going to let someone who left you all alone hurt someone who's never left you?” Victor tightened his hand in the dark curls, watching as Sherlock paled, struggling to shake his head no. “Ahh, I see you remember at least one of your lessons, then. Good, good my love, now follow me. There is much...”

“No! Sherlock, d-don't do this! You're stronger than this, you can fight him, you can beat this!” John could hear the desperation in his voice, feel the fear sliding through his veins. He'd lost Sherlock once to a madman, he wasn't going to let it happen again. “Sherlock...”

“Enough!” Sebastian roared. “I have had enough of this bull! You,” He pointed to Victor, “Get his ass in the car so we can get out of here.” Turning to John, Sebastian gave him an evil grin. “And you, Johnny boy, you can follow me.”

John hesitated, he couldn't just let them take Sherlock. Who knows what could happen to him if they left with him. Glaring at Sebastian, John squared his shoulders and straightened up to his full height. “There is no bloody way in hell I'm letting you two crazy gits leave with him.”

Sebastian let out a loud laugh. “And how, Johnny boy do you plan to stop us, hmm? It's not as if anyone knows you two are here?”

“There are people looking for us...” John started.

“And they can fucking keep looking, I don't care! This bastard owes me a life and I...” Sebastian was cut off by the sound of a soft click next to his temple.

“Hello, Sebastian, I was wondering if maybe you and Victor wouldn't mind doing me a favor?” A soft, dangerous voice spoke from the shadows.

John looked behind Sebastian to see the dark, angry face of Emilie St. Cyr. He looked at her, taking note of the flat ice green eyes, the tight line of her mouth and her pale complexion. He was more than relieved to see her, knowing that if she were here that meant that Ford was safe.

“E-em?” Sherlock called softly. Was he hearing right, was Emilie here? He could have sworn she wasn't just a few moments ago. Struggling against Victor's grip on his hair, Sherlock jerked away, gasping as a few strands were ripped from his scalp. He stumbled forward, trying to focus on what was going on around him. “J-john...a-are you here?” Sherlock looked around for the blond head, the room spinning with his actions.

John reached out and grabbed Sherlock, forcing him to stand behind him as he faced Victor. “You can leave without him, as I said before. He is not leaving with either of you, no matter what you say or do.” John prepared for a fight, ready to defend himself and Sherlock if needed.

“Stand down, Captain, both Sebastian and Victor will leave without Sheeza or I'll make sure they suffer gypsy justice.” Emilie said softly.

“You can't do that!” Sebastian yelled. “We didn't threaten anyone from the...”

“You kidnap my fiancee, threaten my son and think you've not wronged anyone from the tribes?! It would be best for you to just shut the fuck up colonel or I'll make sure you never speak again!” Emilie hissed, her voice so cold that Sebastian froze at the tone. Looking over at John, Emilie frowned. “John, I need you to take Sherlock home. I will meet you there once I am done with clean up here. There is a car waiting outside for you, if you wouldn't mind making sure that he has had at least a cold shower?”

John nodded, looking from Victor to Sebastian then back. “Are you sure? You don't need any help wi...” John was cut off as three figures, a woman and two males, materialized from the shadows.

Smiling, Emilie looked at John. “No, John, I came with back up. Right now, I need you to get him home and to his son, please.”

John nodded, looking at the other two men and one woman in the room. They formed a semi circle around Sebastian and Victor, blocking off their chances at escape. “You will be safe?” John asked again, he knew how much Emilie meant to Sherlock and if anything happened to her...

“I am with friends, John, no worries.” Emilie nodded then turned to the two men in front of her.

John nodded, half dragging half carrying Sherlock out the door and to the car. He ignored the angry shouts of both Sebastian and Victor, as he opened the door and gently pushed Sherlock into the back seat. Climbing in after him, he glanced up at the driver and nodded. Alistair would know where to take them, so John gently pulled the dazed man next to him closer, listening to him ramble softly as they left the docks and headed back towards 221B Baker Street.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wishing everyone many blessings and glad tidings in the New Year!! Sorry fortaking so long with this chapter the holidays caught up with me :) This is a long one and I'm pretty sure not everything is accurate but again, this is all from my imagination so please, don't be to harsh with me in your assessment :) Other than that...Thank you all for reading, the kudos, and the bookmarks!! YOU GUYS ARE THE GREATEST!!

In the back of the car, John tried to look Sherlock over as best he could. Trying not to be to rough with him, he turned his head to the side gently, hissing in anger at the two bruises darkening the left side of his face and the finger shaped bruises on his chin. He swore softly to himself that he would make both Victor and Sebastian pay for having put their hands on Sherlock. Picking up the arm across his lap, John pulled up the coat sleeve followed by the shirt sleeve. He looked at the spot where Victor had stuck the needle into Sherlock's pale flesh. “Bloody bastard, didn't even bother to try and wipe the area clean.” John growled low. He started in surprise when he heard Sherlock whisper his name.

“John?”

“Yes, Sherlock, I'm here. Just relax, we're headed to Baker Street.” John ran a soothing hand through damp, dark curls. Frowning at the heat coming off of Sherlock, John reached out a hand to feel his forehead. “How are you feeling? Think you can tell me what all Victor gave you?”

Sherlock shivered as he tried to concentrate but was finding it difficult with the drug in his system. “It was one of his old cocktail's but much stronger.” He blinked, focusing on the face above his. He couldn't help smiling as he recognized the sky blue eyes of his blogger. “John...” Sherlock slowly pushed himself up and off of John's lap. “John, you have the most beautiful eyes, I dream about them often. Do you know that when you come, your eyes darken and your lips form this beautiful “o” shape.” Sherlock pursed his lips in example, smiling when he heard the soft huff from the man next to him. Turning as he pressed closer to John, Sherlock ran a hand through the blond hair. “Your hair smells like sunshine after a hard rain.” He whispered. Pressing a kiss against the blond locks, Sherlock spoke almost absently. “I wish...I wish you didn't have to leave me anymore.” Sherlock said softly. “I wish...”

John listened as Sherlock drifted off, mumbling incoherently about anything that came to mind. “I wish for that as well, Sherlock.” John closed his eyes against the wave of anger that hit him. He wished he'd done things differently or at the very least been able to talk to Sherlock sooner. Now, here he was, holding his best friend and lover as they raced back to the other side of London. John couldn't help wishing for a number of things, one of which was that Sherlock had never met Victor Trevor. After listening to how the man talked to and about Sherlock, John knew that upon their next meeting he wouldn't be able to hold onto his temper. Shaking his head, he groaned softly at the dull throb. Reaching up, he gingerly touched the back of his head, hissing at the small lump he found there. He'd take care of that as well once they got back to Baker Street. Looking up front at their driver, John sighed. “Alistair, who was at the flat when you and Emilie left?” He needed to know who he was going to be dealing with once they arrived.

“Master Sherringford as well as Master Mycroft and DI Lestrade, Dr. Watson.” Alistair answered immediately.

John let out a soft breath, he let his head slowly fall forward and closed his eyes. Grateful that he wouldn't have to handle tonight alone. Knew that they would be there in a matter of minutes so he would need to be ready.

John jerked as Sherlock suddenly pushed away from him, his eyes wide in fear. “Sherlock. What is it, what's wrong?”

_He means to harm me, Sherlock. Are you going to let someone who left you all alone hurt someone who's never left you?_ Sherlock tried to forget the words, to ignore the truth that rang in them...but he couldn't. Drugs were supposed to quiet his mind not put it in this whirlwind. He wasn't supposed to be able to hear Victor's voice on repeat. Not reminding him of things he had tried so hard to forget. “You will leave me again...” Sherlock whispered as he moved away from John, curling up into the corner of the seat. Shaking, he stared wide eyed at John _...you are loyal to a man who married another woman while professing to love you!_ “Victor is right, you do not love me, you love her.”

“Sherlock, what the bloody hell are you talking about?” John looked at him in concern. He knew it could be the drugs that had Sherlock believing Victor was telling the truth. “Listen to me, you know that's not true, _I love you_ , Sherlock. You and only you.” John watched as the street lights danced off the glass around them, highlighting the wide, ice blue eyes, showing the fear and mistrust in their depths. John slowly moved closer, making sure not to do anything that would cause Sherlock to bolt.

“No, he was...Victor never left me, he always...w-where is Emilie? I thought...” Sherlock broke off as Victor's words continued their cycle through his head... _you remain loyal to someone who doesn't love you, someone who left you!_ Sherlock mumbled as he glanced around the back of the car. “I heard her voice...d-did Victor tell you to hide her? Is she safe? You do know he plans to hurt her don't you? She doesn't deserve what you're going to do to her and I can't do it. N-not to Em, never to Em.” Sherlock whispered. _Are you going to let someone who left you all alone hurt someone who's never left you?_ “Em would never leave me, s-she would stay no matter what...” Sherlock held back a soft sob. “Why...why am I never good enough? Why do you keep leaving me...Victor...Victor said you would...he wouldn't, n-not Victor...”

John listened to Sherlock ramble, the words tearing him apart as he listened to Sherlock go from one subject to another. The pain and accusation in his words hurt more than anything but John knew it was the drugs, even if what he was saying was the truth. Sighing gratefully when they pulled up in front of the flat, John exited the car and looked around. Once he was sure that there was no one else about, he leaned back into the car and spoke softly to Sherlock. “Come on, love, we need to get you into the shower then to bed. Can't have Ford seeing you like this now can we?”

Sherlock shook his head, “He wouldn't like me like this. D-do you not like me anymore, John? I-is that why you left, Victor said it is because I did not do right, I was disobedient and this is my punishment. H-he said I was never good enough to be loved...Ford won't love me like this...H-he won't want me to be his father anymore.”

“No, Sherlock, damnit that's not true. Your son adores you, _I_ adore you! Right now, however, I need you to come with me up to the flat. You need a shower and some rest, I'll even have Ford come spend the night.” John pulled Sherlock gently from the back of the car. He cursed Victor for his taunts and doping Sherlock. He'd struggled hard to get clean and stay that way and now...in just a few short hours, Victor Trevor has put all of that hard work in danger. “We need to get you cleaned up and some food in you as well.”

Sherlock nodded his head in understanding. Looking at John through a hazy fog, he sighed sadly. “You no longer love me, John. I truly wish you did not have to leave me but you will and then there will be no one there...” Sherlock drifted off as John opened the door to the flat and guided him up the stairs.

“Sherlock...John...”

John looked up at the shadow that appeared at the top of the steps. Letting out a soft breath when Mycroft came into view. “Yeah, Mycroft, it's us. Did Emilie make it back yet?”

“No, not yet.” Mycroft frowned as he walked down the steps to help John with Sherlock. Looking at the pale face of his brother, Mycroft's gaze hardened. “The bruises...”

“Are gifts from both Sebastian and Victor.” John said angrily. “I need to get him in the shower then in bed, where is Ford, is he here? Sherlock's going to want to see him before he goes to sleep.”

Mycroft nodded, “He's upstairs with Gregory and you may wish to call your wife. She's been by twice looking for you.”

John let out a soft round of curses. He'd completely forgotten about Mary in his haste to get Sherlock back home. “Yeah, ok, well, once I've gotten Sherlock settled I'll give her a ring.”

Mycroft nodded again, his ice gray gaze on his brothers shivering form. “A cold shower will shock most people back to reality, the problem is that Sherlock isn't most people. If Victor stayed true to form he gave Sherlock a cocktail meant to lower his inhibitions and raise his sexual desires.”

John frowned, “Why? What purpose could that possibly serve unless...”

“Unless he didn't plan to use it for his benefit alone. How much do you know, John, about Sherlock's relationship with Victor Trevor?” Mycroft asked softly. They had made their way up the stairs and were now standing in front of Sherlock's room. “I see we will need to fix any lapses of information.” While John frowned in concentration, Mycroft opened the door as quietly as possible. He didn't want Ford to see his father in this state and knew Sherlock would never allow his son to see him this way either. “I will leave you to undress him and help him in the shower. I would dare say, he would not be happy to find me in the room with you both. Ford is safe for now so no need to worry.” Mycroft ran a hand over the damp curls plastered against his brothers head, worry curving his lips down. “I wish I had been better able to protect him from Victor. If I had known he was involved...”

“Yes, well, we can dwell on that later. Let me get Sherlock in the shower and then to bed, we can all talk about what happened as soon as Emilie makes it back here.” John pulled the taller man into the bathroom and sat him down on the floor. “Try not to fall over you crazy git, don't need you getting a concussion as well.” John muttered as he turned to the shower and turned on the spray. He tested the water to make sure it wasn't to hot or to cold, once the temperature was where he needed it, he turned back to Sherlock and frowned. Some how he had managed to get out of his coat, scarf, and gloves and was currently working on his shoes. “Sherlock, just what in the bloody hell...”

“Body...on f-fire, John. I-I can't...it's to hot in here, please, John, h-help me...” Sherlock struggled with the buttons on his shirt, which seemed to be fighting his fingers and he looked up into John's eyes. “Y-you didn't leave me, John, y-you're still here?”

John let out a choked laugh, “Of course you crazy berk, just where the hell else would I be?” John brushed the trembling fingers to the side and finished unbuttoning Sherlock's shirt. “Come on, I need you to stand up now. We need to get you out of those slacks and then your pants.”

“F-ford, i-is he ok?” Sherlock asked softly. He remembered Victor saying he was going to take Ford from him, to hurt him. “John, m-my son...”

“Is in the front room with Mycroft and Greg. Just waiting on Emilie to get back and for you to take a shower. Now come on, get in so we can go see your son.” John finished undressing Sherlock then helped him into the shower. He waited until Sherlock had stepped under the spray of water before letting himself relax. He wasn't certain if Sherlock would want to see Ford in his current state. Until he noticed Sherlock rambling again, the angrier he became the louder his voice rose. “Sherlock?”

“He won't like me anymore, h-he will think ill of me, Ford...he will not want to see me. Victor...Victor will take him from me and I'll never...He's my son, John! Victor can not...” Sherlock broke off with an angry grunt. Sticking his head out of the shower, Sherlock's hazy gaze searched the room. “John, are you still here?”

John looked up at the pale face in front of him. “Yes, Sherlock.” _The drugs, they must be making him hallucinate._ John stood up and looked at the shower, the pale face watching him. “Victor won't take your son, I swear to you I won't let that happen. I'll do everything I can to make sure that he never takes Ford from you or Emilie.”

Sherlock looked at John, his gaze unfocused as he thought about what he said. “You can not make that promise and still be able to keep it, John.” He stepped out of the shower, leaving the water running behind him. He knew John would turn it off once they were ready to leave the bathroom.

John reached for a towel and dried Sherlock off as well as he could, keeping his mind focused on the task at hand. “Well, I can bloody well try, can't I?” John mumbled under his breath. “Hold still so I can dry you off. You need to eat and get in bed.”

“I would much prefer if it were your hands on me instead of the towel but this will suffice until we have more time alone.” Sherlock was looking down at the blond head of his best friend, wondering how much longer this would all take now. He knew the drugs weren't fully out of his system but at least he was able to think more clearly. “John, you do not have to do this, you need to get home to Mary. I'm sure she is worried about you and the fact...”

“The fact of the matter is that I'm needed here, yeah? I'm not leaving you Sherlock until I'm certain you're ok. So until then, put your clothes on and I'll meet you out front.” John held up a hand to forestall Sherlock's protests. “I don't want to hear it, Sherlock, we had plans with Ford this evening and they were ruined because of your ex and Sebastian. We owe him a movie night and it's time we get some answers, so get dressed and I'll meet you in the hallway, we'll greet everyone together or you can get dressed, get in bed, and I'll bring Ford to you.” John stood up, slid an arm around Sherlock's waist and pulled him close. “We do this together, remember? I've left you to deal with things alone more times than I can count, lately, this time I am not leaving.” John looked up at Sherlock, his eyes pleading with him. “Let me stay, Sherlock, let me stay and help you, let me show you that you're not alone in this.” He looked up into the pale face, looking into bright ice blue eyes. “Please, for once, let _me_ help _you_...”

Sherlock leaned down and kissed John, it was the only thing he could think of to do. He didn't want to ask John for his help but knew things tended to go a little smoother with him around. If John were to help them then maybe this would all be over sooner, maybe they could all start to heal and move forward. Victor's words about Ford floated through his memory. _He may not be mine, biologically, but he is still my son!_ “John, have you _seen_ Ford? Do you know for certain that he is...”

“Your brother was here when we got here. He said Ford was with Greg so I'm pretty sure that he's ok but if you would hurry up and get dressed we can go check for ourselves.” John pushed Sherlock towards the door leading to his bedroom. “Hurry up, I'm sure you need to eat and Ford is dying to see you. I'll meet you in the front with...”

“No! John stay with me, please.” Sherlock slowly opened the door to his room and peered inside. He quickly stepped back into the bathroom, shaking, he remembered the times where Victor would lead him into a dark, empty room after a shower. All the times where he would force him to do different sexual things to whoever was waiting there. Until he'd seen Emilie...when he'd seen his friend, beaten and bloody, Sherlock had refused. He wouldn't use her to get his next hit, even if Mycroft had abandoned him, he would not let Victor force him to hurt Emilie. At Sherlock's refusal, Victor had done it himself, drugging him to the point that he couldn't move and raping them both, repeatedly. “T-the room is dark...” He tried to catch his breath, the sounds of Emilie's pained cries filling his ears. “I can hear them, John, all those people Victor had waiting, I-I can't go back...not again.” Sherlock whispered as he backed away from the door.

John looked from the open door to the tall, pale man in front of him. “Stay right here, I'll go get you a change of clothes and be right back.”

“No, John wait! T-there could be someone, something, in there waiting to hurt you let me...just, give me a few minutes a-and I will go with you.” Sherlock looked over at John then back into the dark room in front of him.

John frowned at Sherlock's words but was interrupted by a soft knock. He walked over to open the door, turning to look at Sherlock behind him. “Put your towel around you, you crazy git, who knows who is standing on the other side of the door?”

Sherlock nodded his head, complying with John's orders with out complaint. He watched as the door was opened and Emilie's face came into view. “Em?”

“I thought you would need a change of clothes and John has been in here the entire time. I just...I'm sorry to interrupt but, here.” She held out a bundle of clothing towards John. “You, ummm, will need these to warm up and Ford...”

Sherlock's head snapped up and he moved forward. “Is he ok, Victor wasn't able to get to him was he?” Taking the bundle from John, Sherlock pulled his shirt over his head, shaking the water from his damp curls.

Emilie turned her back to John and Sherlock, waiting for the other to get dressed. “Ford is as well as expected. A little disappointed to have missed the movie but he is willing to accept ice cream in its place.”

John let out a quick laugh. “He negotiates like his father. Willing to accept the loss as long as there is something there to replace it.” John flinched, certain that the sting in his words was not lost on Emilie or Sherlock.

Sherlock's head jerked up at John's statement. “Is that what you think? That I've replaced you with someone or something better? That I don't feel the loss of you not being here with me? You think Emilie and Ford are here to fill that space?” He watched John through cloudy blue eyes. “You would truly believe that I could move on from you as if you mean nothing to me? That I would be able to just move through out my everyday life as easily as you now do?”

“No, Sherlock, that's not what I meant nor is it what I said...”John started but was cut off by a soft, angry huff.

“Then what, exactly, did you mean, John? Because it sounded like you were saying that I am willing to accept anything, as long as there is a suitable replacement for whatever it is I've lost.” Sherlock pulled his lounge pants on and tied them at the waist. He turned his back to the blond staring at him. “You do not have to stay John, you are free to leave at anytime. Emilie, Ford, and Mycroft are here as is Lestrade, they will stay with me. I do not wish to make you feel...”

“If that's what the bloody hell I wanted to do then I would do it! I didn't say you replaced me with Emilie or Ford and I wasn't trying to imply that either! I simply meant that you are willing to negotiate as long as you still get something you want! Now was that so hard to let me get out or for you to listen to?! Just what the hell would make you think or even say something like that?” John glared at Sherlock's back, trying to understand just what was going through his mind. “Is this the drugs talking because I know you're smarter than...”

“If you two are going to have an argument would you at least wait until Sherringford is not within hearing distance?” An angry voice hissed from the doorway.

John turned to see Mycroft glaring at them both, the dark look he sent them made John flinch. He glanced behind him at the tall, pale figure and sighed. Mycroft was right, it wouldn't do for their argument to be over heard by Ford. Before either could respond, they were cut off by a high pitched squeal followed by a round of laughter. He glanced at Sherlock, whose face held a note of alarm.

“Who is with Ford now, Mycroft?” Sherlock looked from his brother towards the doorway, trying to see past him into the living room.

“Gregory, his godmother, and her two traveling companions.” He looked from Sherlock to John then back. “Again, if you two insist on arguing, at least go to the room and shut the door...”

“Do not lecture me Mycroft about what I should and should not do in front of my son.” Sherlock said softly. “I will talk to him and explain why we were so loud.”

“You two need to talk first, whatever is eating at you both you need to fix it before you come around Ford.” Emilie looked from John to Sherlock, a sad smile curving her lips, then turned and walked back to the other room.

“What is wrong with you two? Have you not had enough fighting for one day? I agree with Emilie, whatever is going on, you two need to fix it before you see Ford.” Mycroft glared at both men, a frown curving his lips down.

“Shut up, Mycroft. There is nothing going on with us, just a difference of opinions, which shouldn't be unusual, considering this is how John and I usually solve problems anyway.” Sherlock looked from Mycroft to John then back “Now, if you will excuse me. I would like to see my son.” Sherlock moved past John and stood in front of Mycroft, glaring at him until he finally moved from in front of the doorway.

“He's been upset enough for one day, little brother, do try not to upset him any further, hmmm?” Mycroft stated in a cold voice, one he knew would hit Sherlock directly where it hurt. If the tensing in his brothers shoulders was any indication, he had hit his mark.

“Then why don't you bloody well leave, Mycroft? Or I may upset him with the loss of an uncle.” Sherlock said softly. He took a deep breath and continued into the front room, a smile on his face at the sight of his son. “Ford?”

“Papa! Are you ok, mommy said you were hurt and the bad man was trying to come get you and Unca Mycroft had to look for you and did you know Aunt Avie is here?! She brought me a new toy just like Sam did! It lights up when I press the buttons and it talks to me when I ask it stuff! Unca Clint gave me a new bow and arrow set too! Are we still going to watch a movie and eat ice cream?”

Sherlock blinked at the rush of questions, looking around the room he noticed the three additional guests. Turning back to Ford, he gave him a smile. “We can do whatever it is you wish to do. Can I have a moment alone to speak with you mother and our guests first? I'm sure your Uncle wouldn't mind sharing a bowl of ice cream with you.”

“Of course not, I would be honored to share a bowl of ice cream with one of the smartest people in London.” Mycroft spoke from behind Sherlock. He stepped around his brother and smiled down at his nephew. “If you do not mind sharing a bowl with me as well?”

Ford grinned up at both men, pleased to have their full attention on him. “Can we have chocolate? I love chocolate and sprinkles but I don't think daddy has any...”

“They're in the third cupboard above the sink. There should be red, blue, and green, if Sherlock hasn't eaten them all.” John spoke absently from the doorway. He was reading a text from Mary and looked up at the silence in the room. “Sorry, did I say something wrong?”

Ford let out a shout of happiness and took off for the kitchen. “I want lotsa red and blue Unca Mycroft! With chocolate ice cream please!” The small voice was pitched high in excited pleasure.

Mycroft glanced between Emilie and Sherlock then turned towards Greg. “It seems I have a date with a curly brunette, would you care to crash or...”

Greg grinned, “Damn right I'll be crashing, I like chocolate ice cream as well.” He stood up from his chair and walked towards the kitchen. “Hope you don't mind an extra person?” Greg smiled as he sat down next to Ford.

“No, Unca Greg, I like you, too.” Ford grinned up at Greg and Mycroft, waiting patiently for his ice cream and sprinkles.

Sherlock watched the scene from the front room. Without turning, he addressed their guests. “General, it has been a long time since we have last seen each other. Are you and your two companions here for business or pleasure?”

A light laugh floated around the room. “Why do you insist on using my title every time I see you?”

Sherlock turned to the petite brunette behind him. “Because, Aveline, it shows that I still have some modicum of respect, despite what the papers may say.” He gave her a quick grin then let his gaze move to the two men behind her. He raised an eyebrow in silent question, having already determined who they were and why they were here.

Shaking her head, Aveline gave him a small smile. “You always were an ass, Sherlock.” Laughing at the smile he gave her, she turned to her friends. “Clint Barton, Sam Wilson, let me introduce you to Sherlock Holmes, Dr. John Watson, former Army Captain, and of course you already know Em.” Turning back to Sherlock, she shook her head, “And to answer your question, you already know why I'm here.”

“Ah, yes, Sebastian Moran, Marcus Magnussen, and now added to the equation is also one, Victor Trevor.” Sherlock tried to keep the anger out of his voice but found it difficult with the memory of Victor threatening Ford.

“Tell me what happened, Sherlock?” Emilie looked from Sherlock to John. “I heard Seb's voice on the phone then, nothing. It has something to do with Ford, doesn't it. Sebastian is helping Victor as well?”

Sherlock shivered, “He threatened to take Ford from us. Said that he wanted his son. He said that we were unfit to raise Ford.”

John frowned, “Victor also said that, _biologically_ , Ford wasn't his but he was more his son than yours.”

Sherlock turned towards John, his gaze narrowed in thought as he went over what he could remember. “Are you sure John? I don't...” He frowned, cursing Victor again for the drugs now in his system.

John nodded, “Yes, he said, Ford may not be his biologically but he is still his son.”

Emilie frowned, “There are a number of ways I could interpret that statement. If I go with the one that comes to mind first...”

“But we have never, Em, i-it's not possible.” Sherlock whispered. He looked from John back to the kitchen where Ford was now entertaining Greg and Mycroft with a story. “John, what does this mean?” He turned back to John, the only other person he trusted above everything else.

John let out a heavy sigh, looking from Sherlock to Emilie. Turning to Aveline and her companions he frowned. “Are you sure, Emilie? I don't...”

“Aveline is Ford's godmother and Clint and Sam are his bodyguards, so to speak. They can be trusted and Sam is former military as well and Clint, well let's just say he is someone we want on our side.

Both men nodded their heads and John returned the gesture. “Ok, well, I can't really be sure but if we go with what Victor said,” John turned to Sherlock, his blue gaze watching him closely as he finished his statement. “There are a number of ways, you could be the father and you two not have had sex.” He watched as Sherlock's face turned a light pink. John stepped closer to him, keeping his tone light and his gaze steady. “Victor made it a point to emphasis his status as far as parentage. If...if he is right and he is not biologically Ford's father...”

“How would he have been able to...th-there never was a time...” Sherlock looked at John, confusion in his words, his eyes. Looking over at Emilie, he frowned at how pale she was. “Emilie, what is it?”

“If what John is saying is true, that would mean he would have had to...” Emilie broke off as her gaze focused on Sherlock. “We need to find out, immediately.”

Sherlock nodded, if Ford wasn't Victor's son that would mean he truly _was_ the father. He needed to remember what happened, needed to clear his mind enough to go back through that time and try to...

“Sherlock?” John was watching him as he seemed to turn in to himself. “Hey, you ok?”

Sherlock leaned forward and took a deep breath. He remembered why he couldn't focus. John was still here and the drugs were still in his system and as much as he wanted to figure out the puzzle being presented, his body's demands were overriding everything else. “John...”

John took an involuntary step forward. “You're not ok, you're eyes are still dilated and you're breathings to damn fast. Just what the hell did he give you?” John pulled Sherlock towards his chair and pushed him gently down into it. “Sit, we need to figure out...”

_“It is a generic cocktail of heroine, cocaine, and zolpidem. When administered to another person, it incapacitates them and renders them vulnerable to a drug facilitated sexual assault or DFSA, including rape. It is considered highly dangerous next to rohypnol, ketamine and gamma-hydroxybutyrate also commonly known as GHB.”_

Both John and Sherlock looked up in surprise. Turning to look behind him, John watched as a hologram appeared from the tablet on the table. “Amazing, h-how is this? Is this the new Stark tablet?”

“Yes, it's not out to the public just yet but it is available thanks to my cousin.” Aveline smiled at the looks on John and Sherlock's faces. “Thank you, JARVIS, let me know if you find out anything else on what the effects are.”

_“Very well Madam, you have a good evening.”_

“He talks to you?” John moved closer to the table looking at the tablet closely. “This is amazing, Sherlock would be able to show people how he does his work and not have to worry with the mundane details or questions.” He grinned at the soft huff from behind him. Looking up at Emilie, he felt his smile falter. “Emilie, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...”

“No, it's ok, this has all been a lot. I thought Victor was still in France and we were safe here. I should have known he wouldn't stay away but I never would have thought...he's _always_ said he never wanted Ford.”

“Then there is a specific reason why he's after my son.” Sherlock sighed, a small smile curving his lips. “But I told him he couldn't have him, I would kill him myself before I would willingly let him have Ford. He wasn't happy about it but I think he understood? I-I'm not to sure, the drugs are making things a bit fuzzy and my head's beginning to hurt, John, please, do something.” Sherlock looked up into the sky blue eyes, silently pleading with him to make things better.

“Come on you, let's get you in bed. You need some sleep, after a good night's rest, we can figure out what the hell is really the truth and what's not in the morning.” John pulled Sherlock up from his chair and led him out of the room. He turned to Emilie before leaving the room. “Emilie, if your first theory was the same as mine, what were you planning on doing?”

Emilie looked at John, her face pale, gaze bright. “I'll have to find out the truth.” She turned towards the kitchen, her gaze on her son. “I need to know if what we've been told was a lie or not, I owe it to both of them to know the truth.”

John nodded, he agreed with her statement but could feel something cold settle low in his stomach. He had seen how Sherlock's face had lit up at the idea of Ford being his biological son and not Victor's. He'd never seen Sherlock interact with a child before, had simply assumed that he'd never had an interest in children and now...now John could see that his assumption was wrong. _Did it ever occur to you that maybe he wouldn't have minded? That he would have wanted to help you, I don't know, possibly raise the baby?_ John held in a sigh as he remembered Greg's words the night of his wedding. He hadn't known about Ford back then, of that John was sure but he had to have known Sherlock liked children. Why else would he make that statement, why else...

“John?”

John looked up at Emilie, confusion in his gaze. “Yeah, uh, sorry, just thinking over some things.”

“I wanted to thank you for not leaving him. He usually would have gone alone but he's told me you've yet to leave him and I thank you for that. I know your wife must be upset with us for having monopolized all of your time this evening. If you will allow us to make it up to you both?” Emilie offered the gratitude and apology as a way to give John an out. He could stay if he wished and see Sherlock through the night or he could leave, go home to Mary and wonder if Sherlock was ok, was he being tended to, did anything happen that they hadn't anticipated. “He wouldn't mind if you stayed and neither would I. Besides, I have company and I believe Ford has his Uncles occupied for the remainder of the evening.”

John nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. “No thanks are needed, he means everything to me and I thank you for letting me stay to help him through this.”

Emilie smiled, “He would do the same for me.” She turned to Sam and gave him a smile, flushing at the wink he gave her in return.

John watched the interaction between the two and wondered just how close they truly were, shaking his head, he turned and walked to Sherlock's room. He came to an abrupt halt when he stepped through the doorway and was greeted by a fully nude Sherlock. “Sherlock, what, uh, what's going on?”

Sherlock could feel his face heating but he was determined not to back down. “I need you, John. Just...just for tonight, please. I know we shouldn't, I can think of a number of reasons _why_ we shouldn't, however...” Sherlock was interrupted by a hard kiss and the feel of a hard, warm body pressed against his. Moaning, he slid an arm around John's waist and pulled him closer.

“Christ,” John gasped. “I should leave, you have company and I-I should...” John was cut off by a kiss, all other thoughts disappearing with the heat of the body pressed against him. Groaning, John walked Sherlock back towards the bed. He tried to get out of his clothing, while staying as close to Sherlock as possible. When it came time to remove his jumper and shirt, he did so with quick efficiency. The desire to feel Sherlock overriding all else. Until his phone rang...groaning in frustration, he knew it was Mary. He should have left as soon as Sherlock had gotten out of the shower but hadn't wanted to leave him alone. Pulling the phone out of his pocket, John silenced the ringer. He felt Sherlock shift against him, his tall, lean body pulling away. “No, Sherlock, where...” John chased after the lips that, only seconds before, had been pressed sweetly against his.

“Y-you must go, John.” Sherlock said softly, sadly. “She will keep calling until...” Sherlock looked away from the pleading sky blue eyes in front of him. It hurt to say the words. More than anything Sherlock knew he wanted John to stay. Stay the night if that was all he could have but Mary would not allow that and Sherlock knew that right now, John was safer with her than with him for the moment.

“I'm not leaving until I'm sure that you're better. If this is what you need from me, then _please_ , Sherlock, let me give it to you. If this is all I can do for you _right now_...” John looked up into the pale face, a face that haunted his dreams with promises of more than just sex and adventure. A face that showed him a future, a love strong enough to survive anything life threw at them. “Let me, please, Sherlock.” John knew that he shouldn't push right now. He knew that in the current state of mind he was in, Sherlock, already at war with himself from Victor's earlier taunts, John _knew_ he should just put Sherlock to bed. Put him to bed and make sure he went to sleep, then leave. He knew that of the two of them, he needed to be the strong one right now.

John knew all of this but he couldn't get Sherlock's face from earlier out of his mind. That broken, devastated look of someone who had nothing left to fight for, of someone who felt as if everyone who loved them had abandoned them. His earlier ramblings, of why he wasn't good enough made John's heart ache. Then he remembered the look on Ford's face the first night he'd met him. The fear that had shown in those silver eyes had shown in the ice blue ones before him. “In the car, you were scared of me.” John whispered. “The look on your face, you kept repeating how I kept leaving you and _he_ never did. I can't...” John broke off with a harsh sound. “I _need_ you to know that I'll _never_ leave you, Sherlock, no matter where I am or who is around me there will never be anyone but you.” John pushed Sherlock gently back onto the bed, smiling as he landed with a soft _omph_. “I'll stay to make sure you get to sleep, as much as I would like to, uh, to do...” John felt his face flood with heat as his gaze traveled the pale body splayed out in front of him. “Christ, I want nothing more than to stay and just...just...” John drifted off as he watched the man in front of him. He could feel his resolve slipping as Sherlock writhed on the bed, moonlight spilling into the room, making the already pale body look almost translucent. “I won't leave you like this, I'll make sure you get to sleep, nothing else.” John whispered hoarsely.

Sherlock bit his bottom lip, watching the man standing over him. It was so hot in the room and he was overly aware of the desire to be touched and rubbed by this man. “John?” Sherlock blinked up into the tan face. “I do love you, John, so very much.”

The words were spoken softly, so softly that John almost missed them. If he hadn't been leaning forward to kiss Sherlock, he was sure the statement would have gone unnoticed. Pressing a gentle kiss against Sherlock's neck, John sighed. “I love you too, Sherlock. More than I've ever loved anyone in my life.” John ran a hand over the pale chest, enjoying the soft rumbling sound. When he reached a nipple, John gave it a gentle tweak, smiling when Sherlock gasped.

“John...”

“I've got you, love, trust me. This is exactly what you need to quiet your mind and get some sleep.” John leaned down and gave the other nipple a gentle bite, tugging at the small nub until Sherlock was arching off the bed, whimpering softly. Using his other hand to play with one nipple, John used his mouth to tease the other. Leaving one hand free to touch and explore the pale body beneath him. Crawling onto the bed, John moved away from Sherlock briefly. He maneuvered himself alongside Sherlock's flushed body, balancing his weight on his legs, John went back to teasing Sherlock's nipples. He couldn't help the soft groan that left him when Sherlock gasped loudly, arching up into his mouth. Giving his nipples one last teasing lick and pinch, John moved downward, running his hands over the smooth alabaster skin over corded muscles. The usually ice white skin was flushed a beautiful rose, the cupid's bow mouth was swollen and slightly parted as Sherlock tried to catch his breath, and the ever observant eyes, those eyes that seemed to know everything about a person, were now wide and dilated with pleasure.

John moved down Sherlock's stomach, rubbing his sides as he went. He knew what he wanted to do, knew how he wanted to make Sherlock feel but if he did the wrong thing...

“Y-you can do whatever it is you wish, John.” Sherlock said softly. He smiled at the man currently pressing kisses against his stomach. He could see his dilemma, John's desire to please him as well as not make him feel less than he was truly meant to feel. “I trust you.”

John took a deep breath, nodding his head once. He leaned up on his knees, spread Sherlock's legs and looked down. Down at the small pink hole that was slightly hidden in shadow. Glancing up at the window, John gave a silent thanks for a clear night and a full moon. “Are you sure, Sherlock?”

Sherlock bucked his hips at John, his impatience showing in his movements. “John, you said you would...d-do you not want to? Am I wrong in thinking...”

“No, Sherlock, I want to. I swear to you, I want you so _very_ badly, I just want to be sure that you want the same thing. I don't want to take advantage of you.” John looked up to find wide ice blue eyes blown wide with lust.

“I trust you, John, above all others. Now please, will you just get on...” Sherlock broke off with a sharp gasp. His back arched slightly off the bed as John slid his mouth down over his cock. “J-john...” Sherlock chocked out. His hands curled in the sheets as he tried to keep from crying out. He could feel John's tongue as it wrapped around the head of his cock. Biting back a moan, Sherlock pressed his head back against the mattress, the desire to thrust up into John's mouth becoming stronger the harder he sucked. His hands clenched in the sheets as he tried to push down the desire to moan John's name out loud, strangely aware that they were not alone in the house.

John moaned around the cock in his mouth, relishing with fierce pleasure the way Sherlock's muscles clenched. John looked up the long, lean body, his eyes taking in the flushed skin stretched taught as Sherlock tried to keep from moaning out loud. As tempting as the desire was to hear Sherlock, John knew that as long as Ford was in the house, it was better he didn't know everything that was going on. So he slid his hands under Sherlock's hips, keeping his eyes on his face, and lifted up, hollowing his cheeks as he moved his head up and down. Groaning, as Sherlock's hips moved in counter to his mouth. John knew his mouth and throat would be aching in the morning but he didn't care, as long as he could do this for Sherlock, he would.

Sherlock tried to hold in the moan that rose in his chest, panting as he thrust up into John's mouth. The drugs were making it hard to focus as pleasure raced along every nerve of his body. “John, please...” Sherlock gasped. He thrust his hips up, groaning as John sucked harder, his hands squeezing his thighs as they moved down. When he felt a finger press gently against his hole, Sherlock whimpered with the need to be filled. “John, hurry.” Sherlock panted. He spread his legs further apart, silently begging John, wanting more than what he was going to give him. “I-I need you.” Sherlock gasped.

John closed his eyes, groaning as he resisted the temptation to give Sherlock exactly what he wanted. He wanted nothing more than to get undressed fully, slide up and over the body beneath him, and press inside the tight, warm heat that was Sherlock. He wanted it more than anything but knew it would be unfair to them both if he couldn't

stay. So instead of responding, John slid a finger into the tight, fluttering hole in front of him, pressing gently, not wanting to hurt Sherlock. When his finger slid in up to the second knuckle, John closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could do this, he could get Sherlock off with out going any further.

“John...” Sherlock moaned, he tried to control his breathing as John pressed another finger inside him. The pressure making him gasp, his hands clenching in the sheets as he tried to remain still. Sherlock groaned in frustration, he wanted more...more than just John's fingers and more than his mouth. He wanted to feel John inside of him, to have John take him apart then put him back together again. He wanted...

“Oh, god John...please.” Sherlock panted weakly. He was already on the edge and as much as he wanted John, the need to come, to escape the coil of pleasure tightening around him was stronger. His body demanded release, the only kind he could achieve from the hands of his blogger, his best friend...the only man he would ever truly love. It wasn't until he felt John hollow his cheeks and add another finger did he finally let go. The orgasm had been just on the edges of his senses and now...now it was wrapping him in a warm blanket of pleasure. The release was just within his grasp, teasing the edges of his senses. Sherlock moaned, the sound echoing around the room as his hips pressed down. “John...”

John took as deep a breath as possible, groaning as Sherlock's hips moved in time with his fingers and mouth. He knew Sherlock was close, could feel the tension in his muscles as the orgasm raced through the pale body. Letting Sherlock's cock fall from his mom with an obscene pop, John raised up and over the man beneath him. Leaning forward, he whispered in Sherlock's ear how much he loved him. Loved the feel of him, how he tasted. John told Sherlock of how much he dreamed of him, wanted him, missed him. Told him it was heaven when they were together and hell when they were apart. When John felt the tight hole around his fingers throbbing, he twisted the digits until they brushed Sherlock's prostate and the reaction was instantaneous. John watched as the flushed, writhing man on the bed fell apart. “That's it Sherlock, let it go love. I'm right here, I'll always be here no matter what.” John panted softly. He raised his other hand, wrapped it around Sherlock's cock and squeezed. When Sherlock let out a loud moan, John moved to catch it. Covering the cupid's bow shaped mouth with his own, he swallowed the sound as Sherlock's hips thrust up into his hands. The small needy noises were driving John wild with the need to come but he forced back the urge. Choosing to focus solely on Sherlock and his pleasure. John plundered Sherlock's mouth as he hands worked on his cock and thrust in and out of his hole. It wasn't until he'd felt Sherlock stiffen that John pulled back. Looking down into the flushed face, John whispered encouragement to his lover. “That's it, come for me Sherlock. Let me help you ease the tension, show me...” John breathed. He watched as the orgasm hit Sherlock hard, the pleasure in the ice blue eyes was more than John could have asked for and the sweetest sight for John's tired soul to see. He listened to the broken gasps, the soft whimpers that left the long, pale throat as Sherlock struggled to keep as quiet as possible. “Come for me, Sherlock, please.”

Sherlock arched up, his body tightening in pleasure as he struggled not to cry out in ecstasy. “John,” Sherlock panted. He could hear John's voice, heard the encouraging endearments that left his lips. His body tightened as the orgasm moved through him, robbing him of his breath. Moaning out loud, Sherlock let go, his head fell back against the pillows as pleasure surged forward in one giant wave. Cresting then crashing over him as he shivered and shook, his hands clenching tightly in the sheets as his hips moved up then down. Straining to escape the tight coil wrapped around him, Sherlock gasped when John's mouth replaced his hand around his cock. “N-no, John, y-you must...” Sherlock broke off when John hummed, moving his head up and down, sucking every drop he could from Sherlock's oversensitive body.

John didn't stop, looking up the tall body, John continued to use his tongue and mouth to turn Sherlock into a quivering mass of need. Moaning again around the cock in his mouth, John licked the tip the slid all the way down, humming when he felt Sherlock hit the back of his throat. John repeated the action three more times before Sherlock was gasping with the need to come again.

Gasping harshly, Sherlock struggled to keep as silent as possible but couldn't hold in the small whimpers of pleasure. “John...John...” Sherlock chanted his name as he came again, this time in John's mouth and harder than before. His body tightened then went limp as he emptied himself into the mouth wrapped around him. Shaking and sated, Sherlock tried to catch his breath as well as focus his gaze. He blinked rapidly, groaning when John let his cock slide slowly out of his mouth and gently removed his fingers from his body. Turning his head slowly, Sherlock watched as John left the bed then padded over to the bathroom.

“I'll be right back, don't move, ok?” John gave him a small smile, trying to ignore the insistent erection throbbing in his pants. He wanted to crawl back in the bed and slide into Sherlock's hot, willing body. To ease the ache for the man in the bed but he didn't, instead John walked to the bathroom, picked up a flannel and wet it. He closed his eyes and tried to calm down his racing heart as well as his raging libido. “This is good, this is is very good.” John whispered to himself, he knew that despite what he'd said, Sherlock was _not_ in the right frame of mind to consent to anything. If they had done anything more, John knew he'd hate himself in the morning. So, after wetting the flannel and squeezing out the excess water, he walked back into the bedroom. His gaze immediately went to the bed, looking for Sherlock.

“You did not come, John.” Sherlock said softly. He watched the man walking out of the bathroom. Could tell by the bulge in his pants that he was still hard but couldn't understand why John hadn't wanted to go further. “A-are you angry with me, have I done something wrong?”

John looked at Sherlock, surprise on his face. “What, god Sherlock, no you haven't done anything wrong.” John walked back towards the bed. “As much as I would like nothing more than to finish this, we can't. I won't take advantage of you while doped up on whatever Victor gave you. That's something he would have done and I am not him. I love you and that means I'll do everything I can to take care of you.” John said softly as he cleaned the mess off of Sherlock. “Even if I have to deny myself but that doesn't mean I'm angry at you, Sherlock. I just wouldn't be able to look in the mirror at myself knowing what I'd done.”

Sherlock looked up at John, “Then would you stay until I fall asleep? I-I know you should go but...”

“I'll stay until you fall asleep, Sherlock. Anything you need, remember?” John tossed the flannel back into the bathroom. He looked through the dresser drawers for a pair of boxers then crawled back into the bed next to Sherlock. “Put these on, I'm sure Ford will be in later to make sure you're ok and we can't have you caught unaware.” John smiled at the blush that covered Sherlock's face. “Come here love, let me hold you while you fall asleep.”

Sherlock pulled his boxers on then moved closer to John. “Thank you, John. I understand you do not have to stay but it is appreciated.” Sherlock whispered in the dark. He draped an arm across John's waist as a yawn escaped him. “I love you as well, Captain John Hamish Watson.”Sherlock said sleepily.

John smiled down at the curly head laying on his chest. “And I love you, William Sherlock Scott Holmes. More than anything in the world.” John listened as Sherlock hummed his pleasure at John's response then promptly drifted off to sleep. He couldn't help running his fingers through the dark curls, enjoying the way they wrapped around his fingers. He remembered Victor referring to Sherlock as heaven's angel. “If that was heaven then it looks like hell's demons have decided to take over. I won't lose you again, Sherlock, not to another madman bent on revenge. I wouldn't be able to survive that, not a second time.” John whispered desperately. He was sure Sherlock was sleep, could hear the even cadence of his breath. Trying not to dislodge the man lying on top of him, John slowly eased off of the bed, looking back once. He didn't want to leave Sherlock but he needed to get back to the flat and make sure that Mary was ok. Despite how things were going, the possibility that the baby could be his was still very real and he didn't want anything to happen to the child. Sighing in resignation, John gathered up their clothing, making sure that he placed Sherlock's things where he could find them, got dressed then left the room as silently as possible. He was startled to find Emilie standing in the doorway of the sitting room, watching him.

“Is he alright? I-I've not seen him look like that in years.” Emilie watched John as he walked towards her. She didn't miss the flushed face nor did she miss the tenseness in John's shoulders. “He rambles when he's high, makes lists too.” At John's look of surprise she gave him a sad smile. “I've known him long enough, seen him at his worse. The things he's done and gone through weren't pretty but he worked hard to put all of that behind him and now...”

“Now Victor has put all of that in danger.” John finished softly. “Do you love him?” John couldn't help blurt out the question. He still wasn't convinced that he wasn't going to lose Sherlock to the tall, beautiful woman in front of him. “I-I mean, you two are close and he's never told me about you or Ford.”

“He wouldn't for safety reasons, well for Ford's safety I can take care of myself but Ford...” Emilie glanced behind her then turned back to John. “Come, Dr. Watson, let's have a talk, shall we?” Emilie grabbed her coat, waved to someone behind her then turned back to John.

John squared his shoulder's, they should have done this a long time ago but hadn't been able to. “Ok, where shall we go?”

“Feel like getting a drink?” Emilie smiled at the man in front of her. “Sam is going to stay here with Mycroft, Greg, Aveline, and Ford. Clint will be joining us.” At John's wary look she laughed, “Don't worry John, Clint looks dangerous but he truly isn't. Not without his bow and arrows and a scowl on his face.”

“Hey, just so you know, I can still hear you!!” Clint shouted from the other room.

Emilie laughed, the sound light but strained. “Are you ready, we can't be out to long, Dr. Watson needs to get home.”

John flushed, he'd rather stay if he were honest but Emilie was right, he did need to get home. “I'll be back tomorrow, if that's ok?”

Emilie smiled, “Of course, John. Shezza would truly be hurt if you did not. Now, let's go have a drink and talk for a bit. I'll have Clint make sure you get home safely.” Emilie handed John his coat then headed down the stairs.

“You know, you could do worse in your choice of friends. She actually likes you or she wouldn't be doing all of this.”

John looked up at the soft tenor, “She loves Sherlock, that's why she's doing this, for Sherlock and Ford.” John watched as Clint walked towards him.

“Yeah but if she didn't like you she would have put you out when she got here. You don't have to worry though about her and Sherlock. She loves him but she's in love with Sam.” Clint whispered and gave John a wink at the incredulous look on his face. “Come on, I'll let her explain it to you then you can decide for yourself.” Clint looked behind, a frown on his face. “Ave, you'll be ok for a few, right? No extra heavy lifting or running after people taller than you and don't forget to eat, please.”

“Get out dad or I may have to tell mom you're harassing me.” Aveline stated with a soft laugh. She gave Clint a soft kiss on the cheek, “Be careful please.”

“I'll see you when we get back.” Clint gave her a light hug then pulled away. Turning to John, he gave him a quick grin. “Ready, Dr. Watson?”

John nodded, the group in the front room made him wonder how well they knew each other. Is this the group that Sherlock had once been a part of? John took a deep breath and followed Clint down the stairs. “As ready as I'll ever be.” John looked back once to find Aveline watching them, at her small wave, John gave her a small salute and head nod. He wasn't sure what to think about their new guests but if they could help them end this faster, then he was willing to listen to who he needed and do what was asked, all for the right to finally be with Sherlock.


	15. Chapter 15

“ _I promise you, I will not leave you.”_

_“B-but I do not know these men, Victor, I have never...n-not like that.”_

_“And you will not now, I will not let them, that's strictly forbidden.”_

_“What if they demand...”_

_“It does not matter, I will not let them. Come, my beautiful violinist, we are almost out of money and if we don't have any money...”_

_“W-we won't get our next hit. I-I guess as long as you will not leave me...”_

_“You know I will never leave you, no matter what, angel, I will never leave you.”_

_“You, ummm, you promise, Victor? I do not know...”_

_“Sweetheart, listen to me, they have what we need. I've given them everything I have and now they want something from you in return as well. Mycroft has cut you off just as father has cut me off, this is the only way. I promise, I will remain in the room if it will make you feel better but if you do not do this...”_

_“I-I will, Victor, I will do as you have asked...”_

Sherlock shivered as the memory played, until finally morphing into one much more preferred. One that offered him a chance to quiet his mind and ease his tired soul.

_“You crazy git, just what the hell...w-what were you thinking?! Or were you even_ thinking _at all?! You left me, Sherlock! You died and left me here, to deal with all of this, shite, alone! And now...now here you stand in front of me, very much alive and all you can say is you're sorry?! Sorry doesn't cut it?! Just what the fuck were you thinking, jumping from the roof that day?!”_

_“If I hadn't he would have had you killed, John. You, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson. I couldn't take that chance, even if he had shot himself, I couldn't take the chance with their lives or yours! I knew, John, how much it would hurt, you think it did not hurt me?! To leave you here, knowing that he could come back if he wished and keep his word! Do you not think that I did what I had to in order to save those that I hold dear to me?! Do not think that I did not wonder, John or wish to come home. Do not think that I wanted to leave you, I did not. I wanted a different way, a chance to show you...”_

_“You should have said something, you should have told me before you jumped! You were so caught up in the game Moriarty had you playing that you forgot about me! He meant more to you...”_

_“That is not true John! I love you, not him, I have always loved you! Why do you think I left, to watch as you moved on with another, to marry another? No, Moriarty said he would kill those I hold most dear and you three were his primary targets! I could not allow him to take you away from me! He almost succeeded at the pool, I was not going to give him a second chance, John, I couldn't handle it if something happened to you.”_

_“You, ah, y-you really love me?”_

_“Yes, John, although it is rather late for me to be say...”_

_“Shut up, you just...stop, stop talking, ok? Right now let's just...I don't know, we'll figure it out later. For now, I love you too and welcome home, Sherlock.”_

Sherlock shifted on the bed, slowly becoming aware of his surroundings. Taking a deep breath, he felt a small body pressing his down against the sheets. Stretching, he looked down and was greeted with the sight of dark chestnut curls framing a cherubic face. Giving Ford a soft smile, Sherlock ran his fingers through the dark mass, humming softly as the silky curls wrapped around his fingers.

“Do not wake him, please, I just put him to sleep. He refused to sleep anywhere but in here with you and threw quite a fit when we tried to get him to sleep up stairs. Insisted on being near you, so I truly hope you don't mind.”

Sherlock smiled at the soft, earnest voice. “He is my son, this is where he should be.” He looked up into the bright ice green eyes watching him. “You never should have left, I should have found a way...”

“It was a good decision, Sheeza, it truly was and it was the best decision for Ford. You know as well as I, that you were not ready for a baby and I could not raise Ford with my grandfather and he would not allow father to assist. Leaving while Victor was still around was for the best.” Emilie reached out and placed a hand over the one on the pillow by Ford's head. “No matter what, he only knows you as his father and Mycroft as his uncle. I will not allow that to change, you will not lose your son.”

Sherlock nodded, looking back down at Ford. “Victor can not have him. We need to figure out everything immediately. I do not wish to continue with any of this any longer than needed.” Sherlock looked up into Emilie's pale face. “It is time to work, once I have showered and dressed I will meet you in the front room. I'm going to see if I can find any information as to Victor's where about's the past six years. There has to be a reason he is after Ford. He purposely told both John and myself about his parentage concerning Ford. He used it to tease me with his idea of a power play, to try and keep me focused on him and not Magnussen or Moran.” Sherlock frowned as he tried to remember everything from last night. Looking up at Emilie, he frowned. “Emilie, was John here last night? I can not remember...”

Emilie gave him a soft smile.“Yes, Sheeza, he was here and he did not leave well until after you were asleep.” She glanced down at her sleeping son. “We shall talk about it once you're out of the shower. Ford's monitor is on the bedside table, if you'll turn it on before you leave the room, please?”

Sherlock nodded, “Of course, Emilie.” He watched as she left the room then turned back to the sleeping toddler in his bed. He looked at the small face, studying the contours and curves. _Sherlock, has anyone ever told you that Ford looks like you? Except for the eyes, Ford looks exactly like you._ John's words echoed in his head, he remembered dismissing the idea back then but now...now that there could be a possibility of Ford actually being _his son_.

Sherlock leaned down and brushed a gentle kiss against the soft curls. “Nu voi lăsa să aveti, esti fiul meu si te iubesc până la respiratia mea moarte.(I will not let him have you, you are my son and I love you until my dying breath.) Sherlock moved back from the bed, switching the monitor on he headed to the bathroom to shower, dress, and start his day. He needed to find out why Aveline was here with her two companions and why did they seem to be after Moran as well. Sighing, Sherlock almost missed the note taped to the mirror over the sink. Looking closer, he recognized John's hand writing. Reaching up to retrieve the note, Sherlock blinked as he realized his hands were shaking. 

_Dear Sherlock,_

_I love you...I don't know what else to say but that and please...please don't think that what Victor said was true. You are worthy of so much more than you've been given. I love you, Sherlock, always._

_John_

Sherlock smiled at the short note. It was much like his blogger, short and to the point. Running his fingers over the familiar scrawl, Sherlock took a deep breath, refolded the note then turned towards the shower. Today they would figure out the answers to all of their questions, the most important ones being...who was Ford's father and why was Victor after Ford? 

Trying to remember everything from last night, Sherlock went through his morning routine by remote. He needed to reach John and make sure he was alright. It wasn't until he was washing his hair that he paused in his thoughts. Why would Victor be involved with Moran and Magnussen? What had he gotten himself mixed up in that he obviously owed one of them? Shaking his head with a sigh, Sherlock rinsed his hair, washed the rest of the soap off of himself then stepped out of the tub. Reaching for his towel, he dried off, listening to the sounds around the flat. He could hear Emilie in the front room with Aveline and their friends as they moved about doing various tasks. Getting dressed, Sherlock turned back towards his room, the need to check on Ford was stronger than usual. He couldn't shake the feeling that Victor wasn't necessarily after Ford. He had almost seemed desperate in trying to get them both to believe that he was Ford's father. Something in his voice had come across as...

Sherlock's thoughts were cut short by the sound of a child's laughter mixing with someone else. Turning towards the door leading to the front room, Sherlock grasped the knob and jerked it open. He walked towards the sounds of laughter, music, and the smell of food. He could tell that everyone was finally up and awake and that his son was _safe_. Walking into the living room, he paused, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. In the center of the room stood Ford and Aveline, dark heads together in a soft conversation. Looking around for Emilie, he noticed the other two men by the far window. Nodding at Sam, he studied the blond man next to him, Clint, not missing the bow and quiver of arrows next to him on the floor.

“He's here as Aveline's bodyguard and friend along with Sam.” Emilie walked towards Sherlock, a smile on her lips. “Are you hungry? You haven't eaten in a few days and after last night...”

Sherlock nodded, his gaze going back to Ford and Aveline. “What is it that Ford and Avie whisper about and why does Clint watch her so closely? Is the child she carries his?” At Emilie's surprised expression, Sherlock paused. “You did not know...”

“I-I suspected she was but was waiting to see if she was going to tell me or not. You simply confirmed it sooner than she did.” Emilie gave him a tight smile. At his worried look, she nodded her head towards the kitchen. “Come, let's talk about some things. You can eat and listen at the same time, also, we have an appointment with a caterer and fittings later on this afternoon...” Emilie drifted off at the frown on Sherlock's face. Sighing, she looked at him as he sat down at the table in the middle of the kitchen. “You're not looking forward to this and I understand but in order to get the one you want...”

“It may require doing the most drastic of things to draw him out. Yes, yes, I know Em, it's just...” Sherlock looked down at the plate in front of him. A sharp pain going through his chest. “I miss John and this is all beginning to take its toll on him.” Looking up at the woman studying him, Sherlock sighed. “I do not want to lose him because of this case, nor do I wish to lose my son as well.”

“Then we will need to find out what Victor wants then. We know why Sebastian is here and we know why Magnussen is in the game but Victor is the odd piece.” Emilie frowned as she sat down opposite Sherlock. “Tell me again what you can remember after we were disconnected. Maybe there's something that was mixed up due to what happened.”

Sherlock knew she meant the injection and knew he couldn't fully blame her for wanting to reexamine things, but he couldn't help the small pang of hurt that shot through him. “You do not think I can remember...”

Emilie frowned, “No, I know better than most that you remember everything important. It's the minor details that you would be ready to delete that I want to know. I know you, Sheeza, you would have cataloged every escape route, whether it be a door or window. You would have seen it and dismissed it if you didn't deem it useful to you. Those are the details I am wanting to know.” Emilie sat forward watching Sherlock with bright peridot eyes. “Tell me what you saw, Sheeza.”

Sherlock frowned as he picked up a piece of toast. “There were a number of warehouses but that's to be expected down among the water front. Some of the buildings were rundown, rusted and aged, while others...” Sherlock tilted his head in concentration, going back over yesterday's events. “The building we were led to, it was new or in the process of being renovated. The smell of cleaner wasn't as strong inside in the inner building as it was upon entrance. Moran was intent on keeping us on one side of the building, making sure to keep us to distracted to look to closely at the other side.”

“But you noticed something, didn't you Sheeza? Something that would have made you remember?” Emilie listened intently, watching Sherlock with a look borne out of years of experience. “Tell me...”

“The walls...t-the walls were not white or gray as most are, they were a blue color. One side was filled with the sounds of a child's laughter and the other with construction noise. I thought...at first, I couldn't tell...” Sherlock frowned, tugging at his curls in frustration. “The sounds blended in, at first. He hit John and all I could think was that we needed to find a way out. But it was odd, the way Victor kept speaking. Stressing to us that _he_ was Ford's father, not me.”

“What does that even mean, damnit?! Victor could have been high himself and trying to goad you or...” Emilie was cut off by a soft, tenor.

“Or he could be trying to protect Sherringford from danger.”

Both looked up to find Mycroft standing in the doorway of the kitchen. “Where is Lestrade if you are here, brother?” Sherlock asked the question absently, going back over everything that had happened yesterday. “What reason could Victor have for trying to protect Ford? Especially after threatening him as he did?”

“It would seem that Victor's father owes Magnussen a large sum of money and to repay his debt, he had signed a contract stating that Magnussen was entitled to his first born grandson.”

Sherlock looked up sharply at Mycroft. “That would only be possible if he could prove that he is, in fact, Ford's father. Despite that, there was something else, something about how desperate Victor seemed.” Sherlock tugged on his curls harder. “If John were here he'd be able to help me describe the emotion.” He sighed in frustration, sure that he wouldn't see his blogger until much later in the day.

“Yes, well, we aren't John but we can help and as for Gregory, he went in to the office today. I chose to,” Mycroft turned to glance over at Ford. “I chose to reacquaint myself with my nephew.” He held out a think manila folder towards Sherlock. “This should help shed some light on what Victor Trevor, Marcus Magnussen, and Sebastian Moran have in common or should I say, whom.”

Sherlock opened the file and looked down at the photo in front of him. “General Thaddeus Ross.”

“Precisely, Aveline has been trying to prosecute him as well as a number of other high ranking officials, Sebastian Moran included. Victor's family is one of the many that feel that Parliament should be left to the politicians and military should be left to the military.”

“Until one or both cross the line then you have to figure out how far is to far.” Emilie said softly.

“This says that Aveline's cousin was called to hand over the...Hulk, is it? What exactly is a Hulk, Mycroft at...” Sherlock drifted off as he looked over the information in front of him. “Am I reading this correctly? He was infected with gamma radiation and _survived_?” Sherlock looked from Emilie to Mycroft then back. “That would explain why they were after him...”

“Keep reading, Sherlock, once you see who Aveline's cousin is married to...” Mycroft started.

“Yes, yes, I know all about Tony Stark being married to Captain America.” Sherlock said in a huff.

“Who is also the only surviving link to the super soldier serum.” Mycroft said softly.

“They would go after him and his children to get the genetic make up of the serum.” Sherlock said absently. “This, Blonski fellow, he's former military? Why have we not come across him?”

“Ross has kept him well hidden from us until here very recently.”

Sherlock looked up at the sound of Aveline's voice. “You know this man?”

“Not personally, by reputation only and the fact that he and the Hulk had a fight that tore up half of Harlem, Ny.” Aveline said with a frown. “Emil was a good soldier until Ross got it in his head that he could make him just like Bruce but without the, ummm, side effects.”

Sherlock frowned. “Well as we can see, that did not turn out well. What else do we know about him, there must be something about everyone involved that would force Victor out of hiding.”

“His younger brother is up for court martial for gun running via his Naval connections.”

Sherlock felt his face heat and his pulse pick up at the sound of John's voice. “Good morning, John.”

John grinned as he walked into the kitchen. “Morning, how did you sleep? No lingering side effects?” John looked Sherlock over from head to toe. “Let me look at your face, bloody tosser. Wait until I see him again, I'll make him pay for these bruises.” John growled low in his throat, the sound a soft rumble beneath his words. He reached up and turned Sherlock's face to the left then right. “We'll take care of these a little later. We, uh, we need to clean and redress the cuts.”

Sherlock flushed, nodding his head. “Yes, John, when ever you are ready and I slept well, thank you.”

“Good, good, that, uh, that's very good.” John nodded once. “Ok, now back to this Victor Trevor fellow. From what I could find out from Barry and George, Trevor's younger brother is wanted for gun running, among other things but this is what the Navy is trying to bring him in on.” John turned and picked up a thick manila folder, laying it down on the table and stepping back. “From what Barry could find out, Magnussen and Moriarty both had ties in the operation and when Moriarty died, Sebs tried to keep everything up until...”

“Until I went in and tore it apart from the inside out.” Sherlock said softly.

“Exactly and now both Magnussen and Moran have a reason to want your head. Trevor, however...” John paused with a sigh.

_“Pardon the interruption, Madam, but the test results you requested are finally in. Would you like me to send them to your phone or tablet?”_

Aveline looked up at the alert from her cell, looking between Emilie and Sherlock, she frowned. “Uh, send them to my cell JARVIS. I also need the second set of...” Aveline walked away from the kitchen talking softly.

“A-are those our results, Emilie?” Sherlock's gaze followed Aveline as she walked over toward Clint and Ford. “Aveline would have said...”

“Not in front of Ford and yes they were.” Emilie was watching her friend as well. Taking in the lush curves and light glow about her. “You're certain, Shezza, there is...”

“Yes but I am uncertain as to who...” Sherlock turned back to Emilie then looked up at John. “John?”

John blinked, surprised to have been caught studying Aveline so closely. “That's why I didn't recognize her, she isn't in uniform. You remember, the warehouses that we had been investigating for Greg about five years ago. The one where we thought Moriarty had his little hide-a-way?”

Sherlock frowned, he remembered, it had been a particularly trying case because it had been a set of twin boys who had been kidnapped. Boys who looked almost exactly like...

“That's it, that's the connection between everyone.” Sherlock stood up from his chair and walked towards the front room. Turning back to the group in the kitchen, he frowned. “Aveline was one of the Naval officers sent in to help us contain Moriarty, we lost three men that day.” Looking at John, “They were all dark haired men, tall, almost my height except for one. There was one blond who had green eyes.”

John frowned, “One worked for NSY and the other two were special agents, I think.” At Mycroft's frown, John sighed. “Moriarty had taken twin boys, both of whom had dark hair and light blue eyes. The NSY officer was dark haired with green eyes and the special agents were blond and brunette, respectively.”

“He told us the pattern without revealing a single detail.” Mycroft said softly.

“He's known about Sherringford this entire time and now that Victor's brother and father owe debts...” John started, his blue gaze watching Sherlock. He glanced down at the sound of his phone pinging with a message. Pulling it out of his jeans pocket, he opened it to read the text then closed the phone again. Looking back up at Sherlock he waited for his answer.

“They plan to use Ford as payment.” Sherlock frowned as he watched John open his phone then close it. “They can not have my son.” Sherlock's gaze was on John, watching as he walked towards him. “John...” Distantly, he was aware of the fact that he was tugging at his hair, the stinging pain grounding him, if but only for a moment.

“We won't let that happen, Sherlock. Trust me, you have more than enough people who want to help make sure that Ford is safe. Starting with his mother a-and his _father_.” John watched Sherlock's face closely as he stressed the word father, trying to gauge his reaction. When Sherlock blinked, then blinked again, John knew. He knew that without a shadow of a doubt he would do everything he could to protect this man and his son.

“So the results...” Mycroft asked, looking between Emilie and John.

“Aveline had them sent to me as soon as she got them. Emilie and I thought it would be better if you were to hear it from me.” John was still watching Sherlock, looking for some type of reaction.

“H-he is...I-I am his father?” Sherlock tried to get his mind to focus on one thing, to calm down his riotous thoughts as he watched John.

John nodded, a grin curving his lips. “He's got some very good parents who will make sure nothing happens to him, right? So what we need to do now is take out the players in this game.” John looked at Sherlock, his jaw hardening as he watched the brunette curls move. “First things first though, Emilie and I have been talking and we have both figured out a way to make this as easy on us both as possible.”

Sherlock looked from John to Emilie then back. “What do you mean?” He was still trying to get used to the idea that Ford was biologically his! Blinking as John gave him a gentle shake, Sherlock let out the breath he had been holding. “John?”

“Listen, I need you to focus on what I'm going to say and understand that no matter what...” John broke off as he looked at Sherlock. He wasn't sure of the reaction he'd get but he knew he would get one. “Emilie and I feel that it would be best if I, uh, i-if I were to move back into 221B.”

Sherlock froze, this would cut out half the worry he still harbored about John staying with Mary. “How would you accomplish this, what about Mary and the baby?”

“Although an annulment isn't possible, a divorce is. It may be messy but John has very good reason's to file for one.” Emilie spoke from Sherlock's right, watching both his and John's reaction. “If we need to make it as simple as possible that...” Emilie looked from Sherlock to John. “Can be done as well.”

“If you don't want me to stay, I'll understand, truly I will but at...” John was cut off by a hard kiss. Pulling back he gasped, “I guess that means yes?”

“Yes, I can stop constantly worrying about you with that, _woman_ , if you are here. I'll be able to know for myself that you are safe. It would also help with Ford.” Sherlock looked up at Emilie. “John is an excellent fighter and an even better marksman.”

“We will need all the help we can get. Moran is here not only for your blood but Mycroft's as well.” Aveline walked back into the kitchen, looking at Sherlock she smiled. “Now that you know, are you prepared to do what must be done?”

Sherlock nodded, his ice blue gaze on John. “We will make sure that nothing happens to Ford.”

“In order to do that you have to either cut the snake off at the head or...” Aveline started softly.

“Or you can always divide and conquer.” Mycroft finished softly. “I believe I am going to listen to a story from my nephew. He has some rather interesting things to tell.” Mycroft glanced at Emilie as he left the kitchen, making sure to give Sherlock a small squeeze on his arm. “You are an excellent father, brother, Ford adores you as you adore him. We will not let anything happen to him.”

“Thank you, Mycroft.” Sherlock nodded once at his brother, watching as he returned the gesture then turned and headed to the front room. “They will attempt a kidnapping. If Victor can not convince them that Ford is biologically his...”

“That's it, that's what the problem was.” John frowned as he stepped back from Sherlock. At his questioning frown, John explained what he meant. “Remember how Victor said something about how heaven's angel has a little devil in him now? Despite the fact that you were choking the life out of him, he still managed to say the same thing Moriarty said about the twins.” At Sherlock's blank look John let out a frustrated sound. Turning to Emilie, he frowned. “Moriarty told Sherlock that heaven's demon and hell's angel were with him now. Later, after we found the boys...”

“The bodies of a Hell's Angel biker and a demonic priestess had been found along the Thames a few days later.” Sherlock finished. He looked out the window, Victor's words coming back as his head finally cleared. _I_ need _the boy. He is the only heir I have to my families title and if I can't produce him._ “It is not just the debts they owe. If Victor's father has gone through his portion of the family inheritance, there will now be a need to break Victor's trust.” Sherlock could remember a conversation they'd had, so long ago when he'd believed that Victor had actually cared about him. “Victor had once said that he was unable to get his trust as long as he was unmarried or had no son to inherit the family title. If that happened everything would go to his younger brother but if he is now wanted for gun running...” Sherlock drifted off, a frown still curving is lips down. “There is a piece missing...”

“This doesn't make any sense. Victor's youngest brother is a Captain in the British Royal Navy, he wouldn't jeopardize his career for his father or brother.” Emilie stated, she picked up the folder John set down on the table and opened it. “JARVIS, do me a favor and scan these, find out what you can about Danial A. Trevor. We need to know exactly _when_ Danny decided that gun running was better than his Naval position.”

John looked at Emilie, “You know Captain Trevor?” Glancing up at Sherlock he was surprised to see he was angry. “Sherlock?”

“Danny would have told Victor about Ford, Em, you know he would have. He was always high, thanks to his brother and his schemes. If Danny knew about our son he would have told Victor.” Sherlock let out an angry huff as he thought about what he remembered of Victor's younger brother. He half listened to the conversation between John and Emilie as he retreated to his mind palace to work, his fingers pressed together in a steeple formation. Breathing deep, Sherlock slowly closed his eyes and went about his search.

“Danny approached me before we left France. We went to Uni together, he truly wasn't all that bad when he wasn't high. He was scared, Sherlock, not like his usual fear but something else. He said that someone had been trying to kill him, that he had a feeling it was his family but he couldn't be sure.” Emilie sat down at the table. “Maybe I should have listened to him, maybe I should have looked into what Danny said.”

“It would make sense, if Danial didn't die then Victor would need to produce an heir and Ford's just around the right age.” John frowned.

“Victor was scared as well, his voice, it wasn't his usual tone. Magnussen must have something else on his family or him. We need to find out what that is and turn it to our advantage.” Sherlock said distantly. “We need to find a way into his office.”

“Mary has a friend, uh, Janine, I think her name was. She works as Magnussen's personal secretary.” John looked between Emilie and Sherlock, noticing the matching looks of intensity. “Don't look at me like that, you never asked.”

“I shouldn't have to ask, John, this is something I should have already known. Why, why did I not know this about her when you introduced us?” Sherlock's tone was rough, a hint of anger coloring his words.

“Sherlock, it is not John's fault something as small as this was not noticed. You were, if I remember from what you have said...distracted. So there is no cause for anger now.” Emilie looked between the silently glaring blond and the tense brunette in front of her.

“And who, do you expect to get to, how would you say, chat her up?” Sherlock's gaze narrowed on John. “Is this a task you plan to undertake yourself?”

John frowned as he listened to Sherlock. “Are you listening to yourself? Of course I wouldn't go and speak with her, she knows who I am and is liable to call Mary. We don't need the added stress right now, trust me.” John sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You two had a disagreement?” Sherlock's gaze scanned John from head to toe. “What did she say, John?”

“We'll talk about it later, right now let's focus on who...” John was interrupted by the sound of Greg's voice on the stairwell.

“Oi, is anyone home?!” Greg was answered by the sound of Ford's laughter as he walked through the door.

“Hi Unca Greg! Unca Mycroft wanted me to tell him a story!” Ford was sitting on the couch next to Mycroft, swinging his legs and smiling at his innocent statement.

Greg grinned at Ford's excitement, “Well then looks like I arrived just in time.” Greg leaned over and ruffled the dark curls, smiling at the hug he received in return. “You left before I was up, Myc.” Greg said softly to Mycroft, his dark gaze scanning the man next to Ford. He grinned when he noticed the light blush slowly blooming on his face.

“Good morning, Gregory, I did not wish to disturb you when I woke.” Mycroft held the dark gaze in front of him, his stomach fluttering as he watched Greg's grin turn into a slow, seductive smile.

“I'll have to remedy the little fact that you were up before me then.” Greg winked as he sat down next to Ford. Looking down at the toddler he smiled. “Where are your parents, Master Holmes?”

Ford giggled at the use of the title. “Mama and Papa are in the kitchen wif Aunt Avie a-and docta Watson.” He beamed up at Greg, pleased at the smile he was given. Dropping his voice to a whisper, Ford leaned closer to Greg. “They are talkin' 'bout the bad men and what they are gonna do. One of them came to see me at school, he said that mommy was a bad person, Unca Greg. H-he said that he was gonna make sure that she got in twouble.” Ford stared up at Greg with wide, innocent blue gray eyes, waiting to see if he was in trouble for telling or not.

Greg looked up at Mycroft then back to Ford. “Do, uh, do you remember what this man looked like?” When Ford nodded yes, Greg sat up straighter. “If we have someone come show you a picture of the man can you show me?”

“Uh huh, Unca Mycroft is gonna have Antha bring a book for me.” Ford looked from Greg to Mycroft then back. “Hi papa!” A wide grin curved his mouth as Ford caught sight of Sherlock.

“Good morning, my son, I thought I left you asleep in bed.” Sherlock looked between his brother and Greg, a small frown curving his lips until his gaze settled on Ford. He smiled as he was suddenly knocked off balance by his son's body slamming into his legs.

“I got hungry and Aunt Avie made pancakes!” Ford grinned up at his father, dark curls dancing around his face as he jumped around the room in excitement. “Clint made milkshakes and he let me help, I gotta add the ice cweam!” Ford stopped in front of Sherlock and reached up, waiting to see if his silent question would receive an answer.

Sherlock blinked, a smile curved his lips as he leaned down and picked Ford up. “I see you have had a very busy morning then.” At Ford's nod, Sherlock chuckled. “You had a good breakfast as well. You were saying your uncle was going to show you a book?”

“Yes, one with lotsa pictures in it. He said I can help you and mommy!” Ford said excitedly, he smiled at Sherlock, a small hand rubbing his father's cheek.

“The story Ford told Gregory and I last night matched one that you told earlier in the week, Sherlock.” Mycroft studied his brother as he struggled to hold onto his temper while holding Ford. “

“What type of story Mycroft, why would we not know of this?” Sherlock spoke in french to keep Ford from fully understanding. He watched Mycroft and Greg exchange glances before he was given an answer.

“It would seem there has been a stranger asking questions about you and Emilie.” Mycroft looked from Sherlock to Emilie, who was now standing behind his brother. “The man is a janitor at Ford's preschool and it seems he knows you two rather well.”

“At his school, how is that possible? It's a private school for the children of aristocrats.” Emilie took Ford from Sherlock who started pacing. “Come let's go get some chocolate milk and you can tell mommy the story the man told you, ok?” At Ford's nod and smile, she glanced at Sherlock then Mycroft before leaving the room.

“You have no right to withhold any information when it comes to my son, Mycroft.” Sherlock rounded on his brother as soon as Emilie and Ford left the room. “If there is something...”

“I couldn't very well tell you then, could I brother dearest. You were in the middle of a case that required your full attention and Ford did not tell us the story until last night.” Mycroft leveled a cool glare at his younger brother. “He is not as stupid as we would believe, Sherlock. He knows what is going on, much like you did when you were his age. This man Ford was telling me about, he had described Magnussen before Gregory arrived.”

Sherlock looked between the two men in front of him. “He's known the entire time, he said he knew what me true weaknesses were.”

“Whatever he has planned, it includes Ford. We need to make sure that there is someone with him at all times.” John walked over to where Sherlock stood, holding out a steaming mug of tea. “Here, Emilie said you might need this. Ford's ok, he's enjoying his mother's attention right now.”

Sherlock nodded, his mind going over every possible scenario that would ensure his son's safety. “We would have to get Ford and Emilie out of the country, again...”

“No, we are not running this time. We left last time because we were to young and more than a little scared. I will not uproot him from his family a second time.” Emilie's ice green gaze watched Sherlock as he paced across the room. “He will not understand why he is having to leave you, Sherlock and there is no way to explain it to him to where he does not blame himself.”

“He is more like you than we knew, Sherlock.” Mycroft watched his brother as he moved back and forth in front of him. “He is safer here than anywhere else now. Not only have you been seen publicly but so has Emilie and Sherringford. There is no where they could go that they wouldn't be recognized.”

“Then we will do what needs to be done to end this quickly.” Turning to John, Sherlock frowned. “How long will it take for you to move back in here?”

John chuckled, “Well, uh, see the thing is, I've already been packed, I just...I-I wasn't to sure you'd agree so I dropped off everything at Greg's apartment.”

“We will need to go and retrieve your things immediately, John. We can not have them elsewhere and you are here. Besides, I have need of your laptop.” Sherlock walked over to his chair and flopped down. The lazy sprawl belying the rapid way his mind was moving.

“I'll get it later. Right now we have more pressing matters to attend to.” John chuckled, then turned to Emilie. “You're sure Sam doesn't mind?”

Emilie laughed, “It would give him someone to swap stories with, Clint isn't always open due to his line of work but you have seen battle as well and Sam can appreciate that.”

John nodded as he looked past Emilie and at the man who seemed to hold her full affection. “How is he handling things? It doesn't bother him, what you and Sherlock are planning?”

“It does or he wouldn't be here but he also knows this isn't for me, per se, it's for Ford and his protection. Aveline went through hell when her cousin's family was kidnapped, Sam saw all of that and if they can help us avoid that here, I'd greatly appreciate it. Especially if it means my son will finally be safe.”

John glanced over at Sherlock, noticing that he was probably in his mind palace, he nodded. “I understand the feeling completely. Maybe we should have one of them chat up Janine? I mean, she's never really seen them and it might be easier than one of us doing it.”

Sherlock blinked, “She is the means to getting to Magnussen. John, you are absolutely brilliant!” Sherlock unfolded his tall frame from the chair and walked over to where John stood. “We will have to make sure that she doesn't get suspicious, however.”

John chuckled, “That's not going to be an issue. We have dinner plans with her and Mary tonight and you two are supposed to be bringing a friend to help entertain her.” John could tell by the belligerent look on Sherlock's face that he didn't like the plan. “There's no other way, unless you have something better on such short notice...”

“No, John, I do not but to have to sit through dinner with, her, I do not think...” Sherlock started but was cut off by a pair of strong hands holding his face still. “John?”

“We will let Emilie and Aveline worry about that, right now we need to find out why your son is covered from head to toe in flour and chocolate.” John chuckled as Ford came into view, Sherlock's eyes widening in surprise.

“Ford, what happened? You look like a flour mill blew up with you in it?” Greg chuckled.

“Sam and I are making lava cakes!” Ford jumped up and down as Emilie tried to clean him off. “Papa do you want one. They have lotsa chocolate and sprinkles!”

Sherlock smiled at his son's enthusiasm. “I would very much enjoy trying one. Does it have chocolate on the inside as well as outside?” When Ford nodded, dark curls dancing with his actions, Sherlock grinned. Leaning down, he picked up his flour covered son and laughed. “You look like a baker who fell into his own dough.”

“No, Sammy let's me shake the flour so we don't have any lumps in it.” Ford looked up at Sherlock with serious eyes. “He said a lumpy cake is not a good cake. Aunt Avie said it gives it, ummm, I-I don't know the word.”

At the crestfallen look on his son's face Sherlock nodded. “I agree with both opinions. The cake Is not good but it does have character.”

Ford beamed up at his father. “Wanna come help, papa? It's lava cakes!”

Sherlock nodded, realizing just how much he's missed out on with his son. “Let me finish talking to your mother and Uncle.” At Ford's nod, Sherlock gave him a kiss on top of his head. “You and I have much to catch up on, such as the fact that daddy has someone in his life who means as much to me as you and mommy.”

“W-will they take you from me? Sammy won't take mommy from me, he said we can be a family. Will they want me to be apart of your family? Does Unca Mycroft know of them?” At Sherlock's affirmative nod, Ford continued. “What bout Unca Greg? Are they going to like me, papa?” Ford's last question was asked with a hint of fear.

“They will adore you almost as much as your mother and I adore you.” Sherlock glanced over at John then back to Ford. “Come, let's go make your lava cakes and we shall talk about daddy's new friend.”

John watched as Sherlock and Ford left the room, both talking about lava cakes and family. “I swear, I'll make that bastard pay for what he's done to them both. No matter what it takes or how long, Victor Trevor will get exactly what's owed him.”


	16. Chapter 16

“What exactly do you mean by we have dinner plans with Sherlock and his fiancee? I wasn't aware that we were supposed to be going out.” Mary looked at John in surprise. She hadn't heard much about Sherlock and his fiancee since they'd returned from their honeymoon. Not that they'd really tried to sit down and have any type of conversation. Looking up at John from her seat on the sofa, Mary frowned. “Why would you accept an invitation on such short notice John, I don't have anything suitable to wear. Especially not if I'm meeting someone in Lady St. Cyr's position.”

John held in a frustrated sigh as he tried to keep his temper in check. Earlier in the day, before he and Greg left Baker Street, it had been decided that they needed to neutralize at least one or two of the players in the current situation. The decision having been agreed upon by everyone, they decided to start with Mary. If she truly were pregnant then she would want to do everything she could to protect her baby, or so John hoped. “It was kind of a last minute offer from Sherlock and Emilie, they will understand if you do not wish to join them this evening. I can always reschedule for sometime next week.” John gave her a small smile as he sat down in the chair opposite her.

“No, no you've already made the plans, I'll go get ready. What time are we supposed to meet them at the restaurant?” Mary frowned as she looked down at her watch.

“Umm, not for another few hours, it's still early so there's no rush. Why don't you wear your red dress? You've always looked rather nice in that one and it's a color that suits you well.” John tried to hold back the bile his words invoked. It made him sick to have to be so nice to Mary, knowing there was a chance that she, Magnussen, Moran, and Victor were after Sherlock and his son. “I plan to wear my navy blazer, tan jumper, white dress shirt, and dark slacks. I believe Mycroft and Greg will be joining us as well but I'm not sure. Mycroft was supposed to have begged off but you can never tell with him and Emilie's best friend is in town, so you will get to meet her, as well.”

Mary nodded as she listened to John, wondering just how long this dinner would last. “What of his son, Sherringford, is it? Will I get to meet him as well?” Mary asked the question as she stood up from the couch, curious about the child that so much resembled Sherlock.

“No, ummm, I believe Ford will be staying in.” John made the statement as calmly as possible. He didn't want to give to much away in the event that Mary was in contact with Magnussen or Moran.

“I would have loved to meet him, he seems like such an adorable child.” Mary said as she absently rubbed her stomach.

John refrained from giving a response, knowing that it would only start a round of questions that John was unwilling to answer. Instead, he nodded his head and smiled as Mary turned and headed upstairs. Letting out a soft sigh of relief, John pulled his phone out from his pocket. Flipping it open, he scrolled through his messages. He resisted the urge to text Sherlock, to see if he would respond simply because he felt the need to. John had watched how Sherlock interacted with Ford, his surprise at the slightest thing Ford had done. The wonder and pride that had warred in the ice blue eyes made John's stomach clench and burn with anger. He'd never seen that look on Sherlock's face, could imagine that the pleasure he took in his son's accomplishments meant more to him than even his own. John couldn't help the protectiveness that rose up every time he'd seen Sherlock and Ford together. The thought that someone would wish to harm a child made his blood run cold and after the story he'd heard about the Stark family, John vowed to do everything he could to protect his own family.

He was so immersed in his thoughts that he almost dropped his phone when a text alert came through. Blinking in surprise, John couldn't stop the smile that curved his lips.

_Do we truly have to do this with her? We have much more important things to be concerned about._

John chuckled at the message. He knew Sherlock would much rather have gone back out to the warehouses but Emilie had insisted on something different. Something John agreed was far better than hunting down clues in the dark right now.

_I will be there as well, Sherlock, so it's not as if it's going to be a complete hardship._

_That is not going to help my mood knowing that we are having to sit at a table with...her._

John could understand the feeling, as much as he knew Sherlock loved him and only him, it didn't change the fact that tonight...tonight he would have to watch Sherlock and Emilie act as a couple in love. The thought made his stomach roll as his hand clenched tightly around his phone. Taking a deep breath, John tried to relax, reminding himself that it was all an act and that soon, soon all of this would be over.

_Well, watching you with someone else isn't going to be easy for me either._

John sighed, he was going to need a drink or two before the night was over. With having to deal with Mary and her silent anger then Sherlock and Emilie's act, it was going to require more than just water or tea. Looking down at his phone, John bit his bottom lip at the picture that came through. Sherlock was dressed in a dark charcoal gray suit, a wine colored silk shirt, no tie, and he was bare footed. A shy smile curved his lips as dark, chestnut curls framed his face in a wild mass, and his eyes...John couldn't help looking at Sherlock's eyes and smiling. The ice blue orbs were half lidded, lit with a soft light, as Sherlock looked up at the camera from beneath long, dark lashes. John knew that tonight was going to be torture, if Sherlock looked as good as his picture and he was sure he did, he knew he was going to be in for a very long night.

_There will be dancing involved, Emilie can not seem to avoid it no matter where she goes._

_She also asked if the suit was alright. It is fine, John, is it not?_

_The suit looks fabulous and you are as always gorgeous and dancing sounds like fun. Are you going to dance as well?_

_Thank you John and it looks as if I may have no other choice in the matter._

John chuckled, that would be something he would love to see. Sherlock dancing, the way he would move. His long sinewy arms would flow in a graceful counter to his body's movements. John could imagine what it would feel like to hold Sherlock close in a slow dance. To place his hands around the trim waist, pulling him closer as John leaned up and pressed a kiss against Sherlock's pale throat. John could imagine just how good it would feel to dance with Sherlock and not have to worry about who had something to say about it. Sighing, he responded back to Sherlock then locked and closed his phone as he headed upstairs. He needed to take a shower and get dressed, tonight was supposed to be a night of relaxation and fun. Despite the fact that they were working on a case, he fully intended to enjoy himself.

“Would this be acceptable for this evening, John?”

John looked up to see Mary standing in the middle of their bedroom, dressed in a red Taormina lace sheath dress and matching pumps. Her jacket and clutch lay on the bed, just within arms reach. John wanted to deny that she was beautiful but couldn't, despite everything so far, John didn't hate Mary. He simply couldn't trust her and knew that he couldn't trust her alone with Sherlock for any reason. “You look fantastic, love.” John gave her a small nod and smile then turned towards the bathroom. “The color is perfect for you as is the fit.” John gave her a slow once over, smiled, then entered the bathroom. John removed all his clothes excepts for his jeans and socks, turned the water on, and waited. Counting to ten, he slowly eased the bathroom door open, just enough to where he could see Mary as she tried to get into his phone. Holding in a harsh chuckle, John closed the door as quietly as possible. Taking off his socks, jeans, and pants, John stepped into the shower and groaned, the hot spray felt good to his tired body.

Sighing, he leaned out of the shower and called out to Mary. “Mary, love, would you bring me my cell?! I'm expecting a call from Mike about a patient we had in critical care!” He shouted over the shower spray.

“Was it the burn victims from last week?” Mary asked, walking into the room with John's phone. She set it on the counter and waited patiently for John's answer.

Ducking back into the shower, John tried to hold back an angry sigh. He hadn't expected her to stay and actually want to talk about the family but they had both been on duty at the time, so it only made sense that she would want to know. “Yeah, we were worried about the father, his lungs hadn't been responding to treatments as well as we had hoped.”

“Well, hopefully you and Mike can perform a miracle as always.” Mary said with a smile in her voice.

John gave a soft grunt of agreement, his mind wandering to Sherlock and the picture he'd sent him. John tried not to imagine what the material would feel like under his fingers. The soft silk of Sherlock's shirt was sure to move across his skin as if it were made of air. John pictured sliding the soft material off Sherlock's shoulders and down his long, pale arms. Sighing softly, he knew he needed to stop his fantasizing, especially with Mary so close. There would be plenty of time later to indulge in his fantasies, right now he needed to be focused and ready for tonight.

“Do you think Sherlock loves his fiancee? I mean, I've never heard of him ever having any type of commitment to anything other than his work and you.”

John bit back the sharp retort that sprang to his lips, instead, opting to take a deep breath and counting backwards from ten. “I'm sure he does or he wouldn't be marrying her.”

“Well, I'm sure it's a good thing for both Lady St. Cyr and her son.” Mary said. She tried not to let her thoughts dwell on either Emilie or Ford, until a thought occurred to her.“So, could that mean the rumors are true, Sherlock is the boy's father?” It would explain why Sebastian was after him as well, the resemblance between the two was uncanny.

John frowned at Mary's question, wariness entering his voice as he gave her an answer. “Uh, well, I'm not sure. Most of the rumors say he is but I've seen Emilie's father and grandfather, well photos and Ford looks a lot like them.” John finished his shower, turning the water off he reached for the towel hanging on the rack. There was no way he was going to tell her the truth about Sherlock and Ford.

“That isn't to surprising considering her mother's entire family is blond. Must be the color of his eyes...” Mary drifted off as another thought occurred to her. Glancing down at John's phone, she noticed there were two messages and a missed call. Reaching over for the phone, she jerked back when she noticed Sherlock's name appear on the caller ID. Instead of telling John, Mary moved back from the phone, waiting for John to step out of the shower. She would admit that despite the obstacles and distance between them, John was very pleasing to look at. Mary loved the broad shoulders, despite the shoulder wound. Which, if Mary were honest with herself, only added to the appeal that was already John Watson. She loved to map her way down the tan, muscular body, now a bit softer in some places and toned in others. It also wasn't lost on Mary that they'd not had sex since they'd gotten back from Paris, so her current desire to see the freshly showered body of her husband came as no surprise.

“Have you seen Emilie's eyes, they are the most intriguing green. Almost translucent but not.” John stepped out of the shower, his towel wrapped around his waist. He gave Mary a quick grin as he reached for another towel to dry his hair. “Let's get out of this hot bathroom, I'm sure you're about ready to faint from the heat.” John walked over, picked up his phone and headed to the door. He opened it for Mary and waited until she had walked through. “Would you mind getting me something to drink, a juice maybe?” John gave her a small smile and watched as she turned and silently left the room. He glanced down at his phone, noticing the missed calls and messages. Looking through them, he wasn't surprised to see the one from Sherlock declaring he was already bored with the evening's events.

_We haven't even gotten to the restaurant, how are you bored already? -JHW_

While he waited for a response, John got dressed. Making sure his hair was done right and his jumper fit perfectly. His outfit, although not new, was comfortable and dressy enough for the evening. Looking at himself in the mirror, he wondered where Mary was with his drink. Wandering downstairs and towards the front room, John heard her in the kitchen talking. Moving as silently as possible, John peered around the door frame of the kitchen to see Mary standing in the middle with her back to him and the phone pressed against her ear.

_“Yes, I understand but there is still the child to consider...No, no, it's not that but there is still a child invol...how can you say that? I felt the same way then as I do now! Children should not have to suffer for the sins of their parents! You're after Holmes not him, leave the child alone!”_

John listened to the brief pause in conversation, wondering which Holmes she meant. He didn't have to wait long for an answer as Mary let out an angry huff.

_“I will not harm the boy, you did enough in the States three years ago and I should have said more then. I don't particularly care_ who _wants him, he's with his parents and if that's a problem...No, but I will not do this, he will just have to be angry or do it himself. I have more important things to worry about.”_

John moved back around the door frame, he needed to warn Sherlock and Emilie that someone may try kidnapping Ford tonight. He paused when Mary started speaking again, surprised at how harsh her tone had become.

_“I don't bloody well care if he's angry! I will not touch the child, he is innocent in all of this and has nothing to do with...that's none of his concern. John is currently upstairs getting dressed and not worried about what I am doing. No, I will not, he is my husband and I will not allow him to be harmed. If you're angry at Sherlock then_ you _will have to deal with_ that _yourself...what do you mean? No, I have not seen...w-when was this? Fine, it will be taken care of immediately.”_

John moved back towards the stairs, shaking as he tried to process what he'd just heard. Mary was going to help try and kidnap Ford?! John moved to the bottom of the stairs, taking a deep breath he tried to calm down. He cleared his throat as loud as he could, listening as Mary moved around in the kitchen. “Mary, is everything alright? You're tak...” John drifted off as Mary walked out of the kitchen, a glass of juice in her hand.

“Sorry, got caught up in a call.” Mary gave John a brittle smile. She held the glass out to him and waited as he took it, examining it as subtly as possible. “You look nice, are we ready to go then?”

John nodded, looking at the glass of juice, then taking a small sip. He nodded as he handed the glass back to Mary and watched as she walked back into the kitchen. “Thank and yes, we are ready to go.” John pulled out his phone and sent of a quick text to Sherlock.

_Someone may come for Ford tonight, take all precautions needed._

“How far is the restaurant, I'd hate to become an inconvenience if I get tired and wish to come home early.” Mary walked out of the kitchen, a small frown curving her lips down. “I need to gather my wrap, purse, and keys. Excuse me for a moment John, I will be right back.” She gave John a smile as she passed him, heading back upstairs.

“It's about twenty or thirty minutes away.” John answered absently, his thoughts going over what he'd just heard. Turning to watch Mary, he cleared his throat. “I'll get a cab and meet you outside then.” John nodded as Mary walked away. He jumped when his phone pinged, pulling it out he frowned as he headed towards the front door, picking up his wallet and keys on his way out. Sighing, John headed outside to hail a cab. This was going to be a long night if Sherlock's message meant anything. By the time Mary had made it outside, John was waiting with barely concealed impatience. He gave her a small smile as she stepped into the cab, following behind her and closing the door. They rode to the restaurant in relative silence, broken only by the soft music from the cab's radio. John watched the lights of the buildings they passed, thinking about the last time he was in the back of a cab. It wasn't until he felt a hand shaking his leg did John blink and refocus his thoughts. “I'm sorry, what, uh, what were you saying?”

Mary laughed softly. “I said it looks like we're here. I've heard of this place, very exclusive, hell to get into unless you know the right people or have enough money.” She waited as John exited the cab, holding the door open for her and helping her as she exited as well. “This is absolutely breathtaking.” Mary looked around her in awe, from the beautiful rose colored brick and white trim to the trees and flowers in front. Walking over to a lighted fountain, Mary read the plaque in front. “Oh my, this is a wishing fountain. Someone had it placed here in dedication of a loved one.”

John paid the cabbie, then turned and followed Mary. He looked at the name on the plaque and frowned, Euliterio Dapremont. The name sounded familiar but John couldn't quite place why. Not until a soft voice from behind them spoke.

“My father loved this place, always said he felt like he was home here if no where else in the world. Despite daddy being French-Creole, he always loved London the best.”

John turned to find Aveline and Clint standing behind them. He couldn't help but appreciate the outfit Clint wore. He was dressed in a pair of dark jeans, black dress shoes, a navy polo, and a black bomber jacket. Giving Clint a nod, John turned his gaze back to Aveline. “You look beautiful this evening, General.” He grinned as Aveline rolled her eyes at the use of her title.

“General?” Mary looked between John and the petite dark, haired woman accompanied by the silent, brooding blond. “You said the fountain is dedicated to your father?”

Aveline smiled at Mary, extending her right hand towards her. “Yes, I am Aveline Dapremont and my companion is Clint Barton. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Watson, John has spoken very highly of you.”

Mary tried to hide her surprise at Aveline's words. She looked the woman in front of her over. She had heard of Aveline Dapremont, the cousin to Tony Stark. Mary could see the family resemblance and knew...this was someone she needed to be wary of. Especially after what happened three years ago, if anyone here were to find out that she had some how been involved...

“Well, aren't we all a picture out of a fashion magazine!”

Mary looked up and around John to see a tall, blond woman walking towards them. Emilie was dressed in a maroon and creme creation, one that left very little to the imagination. The dress was long and flowing with a split mid thigh that showed of a pair of tan legs perfectly, wrapping around her as if it were meant to hug her curves. The crème under sheath was a cutout with no distinct design. The rest of the dress was a maroon color that shimmered in the light when she moved. It was an A-line dress, tying behind Emilie's neck, exposing her throat and neck, showing off her cleavage, as well as the diamond and ruby necklace and earrings she wore. “She is absolutely stunning, I see why they make such a remarkable looking couple.” Mary said softly. “They look absolutely fantastic together.” She admitted silently that Sherlock did look good as well dressed in his dark gray suite, noticing how his shirt was several shades darker than Emilie's dress. “The wedding will be something to look forward to.”

John turned to look at the tall, beautiful blond woman behind him, followed by his dark haired detective. “Yes, they do look quite well together.” John tried to hold in the jealousy he felt as he watched Sherlock and Emilie stop in front of them. He looked Sherlock over from head to toe, enjoying the fact that he'd been able to see him before arriving at the restaurant. Before his mask had to change from the shy, smiling brunette in the picture to the quite and aloof man in front of him. “Good evening Emilie, Sherlock, good to see you both.” Turning back to Mary, John introduced Emilie. “I apologize, I seem to be slow on the introductions this evening. Mary, love, you just met Aveline Davpremont, and her companion, Clint Barton. Let me introduce you to Sherlock's fiancee, Lady Emilie St. Cyr.”

Mary nodded to Clint and Aveline, aware of the situation she was currently in. Two of the people she never expected to run into were now standing directly in front of her. She shook the hands of both then turned to Emilie and Sherlock, repeating the gesture. “A pleasure and honor to finally meet you, my Lady, Sherlock, as always it is a pleasure to see you as well.”

Sherlock nodded, his gaze moving from Mary to John then back. He could see the tense lines around her mouth and eyes, could tell that something or someone had her on edge. “Mary, John, good of you both to join us on such short notice.”

“We apologize if it was an inconvenience to your evening. It was a spur of the moment idea on our part.” Emilie smiled at Mary and John. Aveline's words from earlier played in her head, reminding her that the woman in front of her was a threat to not only Sherlock but to her son as well.

_She will not be comfortable tonight, not after I introduce myself. You must remember, she was one of the people who kidnapped my cousin's husband and oldest son three years ago then his youngest son on the anniversary of their death. I do not hold either her or Col. Moran in high regard right now._

Sherlock watched as Mary glanced over at Aveline and Clint, her gaze moving between them as she studied them. It wasn't until he felt a small hand on his arm did he turn to his companion. “My apologies, Em, I was thinking about something we spoke about earlier. Did I miss anything important?”

Emilie smiled up at Sherlock, “It's fine, you seem to be observing things?” She didn't miss the way Mary studied Clint or Aveline, nor did she miss the way she seemed to move closer to John. Searching for some type of reassurance or protection. “Shall we go inside? Mycroft and Greg should be here later on this evening, I believe.” Emilie reached for Sherlock's arm and pulled him gently towards the restaurant doors.

Sherlock followed, his gaze briefly meeting John's as he walked past him. Turning back to Emilie, he smiled and nodded to the hostess as they entered the building. When Emilie turned him towards a back room, he looked around in appreciation at their surroundings. The outside of the building resembled an ordinary, modern style house while the inside...the inside was anything but ordinary.

“This is absolutely fantastic.”

Sherlock's thoughts were cut off by John's soft statement. Turning towards him, Sherlock grinned. “It's a favorite place and holds some rather, uh, the memories here are not all bad.” Sherlock glanced over at Emilie then back to John. “It's almost as relaxing as Angelo's just a little more...” Sherlock drifted off as he searched for the right word. Laughing softly as Emilie leaned over and finished the thought for him.

“It's a little more posh than Angelo's and requires a dress code is what he means to say.” She gave Sherlock a smile then turned to John and Mary. “We are on our best behavior tonight.” Emilie sighed. “We have a, ummm, guest joining us later on this evening.”

John looked between the two, he couldn't remember if they had said something about an additional person or if this was a last minute surprise. “Who, uh, who are we expecting?” John watched as Emilie shifted closer to Sherlock, who stiffened at the action. His ice blue gaze moving around the room, looking for a threat. “Sherlock, Emilie, what's going on?” John kept his voice low, hoping Mary didn't here the hard tone while she listened to their conversation.

Sherlock looked at John, he knew that if he'd told John the real reason they had chosen this restaurant, he might not have agreed to come with them this evening. Sherlock also knew that if he lied, what little ground they'd been able to regain would slowly start to crumble and that wasn't what he needed or wanted right now. Taking a deep breath, he looked into the hard, sky blue eyes and told John the truth. “This is where Victor usually spends his evenings having dinner. It would seem that he has a fascination with two of the investor's. So much so that he will go as far as having their children questioned by school staff.” He watched as John seemed to think over what he said, then realization dawned in his eyes.

John felt his jaw clench as he glared at Sherlock. “Are you telling me that we are actually on a _bloody case?!_ ” John tried to keep his voice as low as possible, aware of the other diners surrounding them. He looked at both Sherlock and Emilie, the answer clear in both their eyes. Glancing over at Mary, John took a deep breath. “Ok, ok, after what happened the other night I can understand why you would want to find him but we did _not_ have to bring Mary into this. She is pregnant for god's sake's, Sherlock! You should have said something to me sooner!”

Sherlock tried to control his temper as John glared at him from across the table. “I called you more than once John and you did not answer. I even sent you a text about what was going on, you did not respond so do not blame me.”

“Could we _please_ not do this right here, right now?! Christ, just what the hell is wrong with you two?!” Emilie hissed at the angry, red faced blond and silently, glaring brunette. “This is not just a case this is also to relax, if he shows up he shows up if not then we still get to eat and enjoy ourselves.”

Sherlock took a deep breath, aware of the covert stares and soft murmurings of the other patrons around them. Looking away from John, Sherlock nodded his head towards Emilie. “My apologies, Emilie, I did not mean to raise my voice.” Sherlock refused to look at John, despite the weight of his eyes on him. He turned his gaze down towards the menu in front of him, looking for something that would at least tempt him to eat.

John ran a hand across his face, letting out a heavy sigh. Turning towards Mary, he gave her a small smile. “I'm sorry, if you would like to go then...” John let the statement hang between them as he watched Mary's expression closely.

Mary shook her head, looking between John and Sherlock. She hadn't missed the surprised look on John's face nor the angry glare from Sherlock. “No, we can stay. We're here so we might as well eat and try to enjoy ourselves, right?”

John nodded, giving a silent sigh of relief. He hadn't known about the change of plans and Sherlock was right if he had responded to the text Sherlock had sent then he probably would have. Looking over at Sherlock from beneath his lashes, John tried not to think about their conversation earlier that afternoon. He had been surprised and hurt that Sherlock had suggested he stay with Mary, until he explained his reasons.

_It is safer this way, John. She already suspects us of far more than just friendship. We can not afford to have her enter into the situation anymore than she already is. You have heard the stories about the Stark family, what she and Moran put them through at the request of General Ross and Moriarty. I do not wish that for my family, not again. As much as I do not want you there with her, it may be for the best...for now._

Sighing John looked down at his menu, after looking it over he asked Mary what she had decided on and was surprised to see she had picked an Indian dish. “I wasn't aware you enjoyed Indian food?”

Mary gave him a small, secretive smile. “It's been a favorite of mine since childhood. I just don't get to indulge in it anymore because the authenticity is hard to duplicate.”

John frowned, this was something new. “Are you sure you'll be alright? It's rather spicy and the baby...”

“The baby might actually enjoy it, John.” Mary gave him a small smile, trying to hide her irritation. “Stop worrying, we are here to enjoy our evening.” Mary glanced around the table, observing the other two couples. Leaning over to John, she whispered softly. “The general and her companion, how long have they known each other?”

John glanced over at Aveline and Clint. “Ummm, I believe for a while. Clint is a friend and co-worker of Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner.” John didn't miss the way Mary paled, nor did he miss the tremor in her hands. He looked over at Sherlock and Emilie, surprised to find them both looking at something or someone on the opposite side of the room. Turning back to Mary, he wasn't surprised to see her once again, under control. “Do you know them?”

“Not personally but I have heard the stories of Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark. Very intriguing individuals to say the least. If the news is to be believed, Dr. Banner is The Hulk and Mr. Stark is Iron Man?”

John nodded, watching as Clint leaned over to whisper something in Aveline's ear, making her blush and smile in response. Shaking his head, John wondered again about the true nature of their relationship, was it really just close friends or was it something more? Turning back to his menu, he decided to try the 23 Karat Gold Lamb Shanks Khorma with Roast Potato Mash, Papaya pickle, Spices, Green Cardamom and Cashew. Sighing, he looked up at Sherlock and Emilie from beneath his lashes, frowning at how close they were now sitting. “If she gets any closer she'll be sitting in his lap.” John muttered darkly. He jerked when he felt Mary's hand on his arm. Turning to her, he forced a smile to his face and tilted his head in question, hoping she hadn't heard what he'd said.

“Are you ok, love? You seem a bit distracted.” Mary looked at John closely, could see the tightness around his eyes and lips. _He's jealous!_ Mary thought angrily, glancing over at Sherlock and Emilie. She watched as they talked softly amongst themselves, exchanging soft smiles and whispered words. Looking back at John she frowned, she could see the anger in his eyes and wondered who it was directed at. Shaking her head she looked up at the waiter as he headed towards them. “Are you ready to order?”

John blinked, looked down at his menu then back up at Mary. “Well, as long as everyone else is...” John let the question trail off as he looked around the table.

Sherlock looked over at Mary and John, surprised to see the anger in the sky blue eyes watching him. Sherlock wanted to ask him what was wrong, why was he angry but he was aware of the fact this was not the ideal place or time. Holding in a sigh he turned towards Aveline and Clint, listening to their conversation. It wasn't until his phone vibrated in his pocket did he turn away. He was intrigued by the fact that they seemed to be closer than they had originally told anyone. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he looked down to find a text from Mycroft.

“Shezza, este totul în regulă?”(Shezza, is everything ok?)

Sherlock looked up into Emilie's concerned gaze. “Mycroft și Lestrade va fi târziu, ceva despre Lestrade obtinerea a avut loc până la Yard.”(Mycroft and Lestrade will be late, something about Lestrade getting held up at the Yard.) Sherlock frowned as he replied to the message then put his phone back in his pocket. “Shall we order then? Obviously there is no reason to wait and we are all hungry. Mycroft will make sure he and Lestrade eat once they arrive.” Sherlock looked over at Emilie then turned to John, who was watching him closely. He gave him a small nod then looked at the rest of their group. “Unless everyone would rather wait to order?”

“No, no we can order.” Emilie placed a hand on his arm, waiting until the ice blue gaze was focused on her. “You are right, Mycroft and Greg will order once they arrive.” Emilie looked up at Sherlock, could see the tightness around his eyes and mouth. “Come dance with me first?”

Sherlock nodded automatically. He stood up, placing his menu down on the table. Turning towards Emilie, he pulled her chair back and waited as she stood up. Leaning forward, his gaze scanned the crowd around him. “Victor este la al doilea nivel și el nu este singur.”(Victor is on the second level and he is not alone.)

Emilie glanced up at Sherlock, watching where his gaze drifted too. As she turned and looked up to where he had last indicated, she froze. There, in full view of the dance floor sat Victor Trevor. His golden gaze moving over the dancers with an air of boredom. “Arată ca el este în căutarea pentru cineva. Ce zici să ne piquing interesul lui, hmmm?” (He looks like he is looking for someone. What do you say to us piquing his interest, hmmm?)

Sherlock nodded, removing his jacket, he glanced back at Aveline and Clint, tilting his head in the direction of the dance floor. When both nodded and stood up, Sherlock turned to John and Mary. “If you will excuse us, my fiancee wishes to dance.” He rolled his eyes for effect, giving them a small grin. “It's something I've only just recently discovered that my son enjoys as well.”

John grinned at Sherlock, “Go ahead, we'll be right here when you get back.” Jealousy ran through John as he watched Emilie and Sherlock head towards the center of the room. He jerked when his phone buzzed with a message alert. Looking over at Mary, he gave her an apologetic smile. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, John glanced down at the message.

_Sorry mate, not going to make it, something's come up and I have to handle it. Tell Sherlock and Em that I will make it up to them, yeah? - Lestrade_

John frowned, he knew Mycroft had text Sherlock's number so why would he text John, unless...

“Is everything alright, John?” Mary looked at John in concern. He was frowning down at his phone as if he'd received bad news.

“Uh, y-yes. Greg said that he wouldn't be able to make it, something came up and he's got to take care of it.” John looked up at Mary, giving her a small smile. He turned towards the dance floor and watched the couples as they moved to the music.

“Sherlock and Emilie look quite well together, do they not?” Mary watched the couple on the dance floor. “I've never seen such a contrast between two people before that worked so well.”

John frowned as he studied Sherlock and Emilie, trying not to see what Mary was talking about. He took in the way they moved to the music, the proximity between them as they danced to a haunting melody. “They've known each other for a while so it would make sense they would know what would make them look good together.” John tried to tell himself he wasn't jealous. Not of the way Sherlock held Emilie or how his hand would slide from the small of her back down to her waist and rest there. His fingers flexing as he guided her through their steps, his eyes never leaving her face.

Mary looked at John, could see the jealousy writhing under his skin and decided to pick at the already festering wound. “They look as if they were made for each other. I mean they're both tall, fit, and have an air about them. They are a truly stunning couple.” She watched as John stiffened, a sense of angry pleasure surging through her at his action. Mary tried to hide her anger at John's blatant refusal to acknowledge her statement, when he simply reached for his glass of water and took a drink. It was a small surge of pleasure, however, when she noticed the trembling of John's hand.

John tried to ignore Mary's words, to remind himself that Sherlock loved him, was _in love with him_ but it was proving to be difficult. Watching the couple on the dance floor, the way their movements changed with the music, was turning out to be more than he could handle. Emilie was now pressed against Sherlock, his hands holding her hips tightly as the music changed to a more sensuous tune. Their bodies moved as one, with the color of their outfits, you couldn't tell where his ended and hers began. John felt the tremor in his hand as he picked up his glass of water. Turning to motion for the waiter, he ordered something a lot stronger.

“John, are you sure you want to start drinking? We still have to...” Mary cut off her statement after he turned to her, a dark look on his face. Blinking in surprise, Mary sat back in her chair, turning to look back down at her menu. She hadn't expected John to start drinking, although she should have noticed it sooner. With his family history and all the stress John had been under lately. Shaking her head angrily, Mary studied her menu as she silently argued with herself about making excuses for her husband.

John could see Mary glaring at her menu, his refusal to comment on her statement bothered her. He was proud of himself for not showing his anger at her attempt to make him jealous. Even if he did silently agree with what she said. Letting out a soft sigh, John turned to look around the room and froze when his gaze met a pair of golden eyes. _Victor! Victor was here, how, when did he get here and did Sherlock and Emilie know?_ John turned towards the dance floor, studying the couple again. It wasn't until they'd executed a turn around the floor did John realize what was going on. One of them had to have seen Victor and decided to draw him out as well.

“John, are you ok? You're a little tense?” Mary leaned over to see what John was looking out. Turning, she froze as she looked up to see a pair of golden eyes watching them. “Do you know him John, is this who Emilie and Sherlock are after?”

John nodded, “I'm ok just a little, uh, on edge.” He turned to face Mary, watching her expression closely as he told her who was watching them. “His name is Victor Trevor, he's the man trying to kidnap Ford.” He wasn't surprised to see that her face was carefully blank of any emotion but concerned surprise. John knew, however, just how good an actress his wife truly was. So he looked for other tell tale signs, the small tremor in her hand, the way she seemed to turn her back more towards Victor. John didn't miss these small signs, although he was sure Mary wasn't aware that she was even giving them off.

“Why would he wish to kidnap Lady St. Cyr's son? I wasn't aware that she even knew Lord Trevor and his son's.” Mary whispered as she leaned closer to John. She looked around the dance floor, noticing that both Clint and Aveline had moved from where they had been standing in the back. She searched the crowd for Sherlock and Emilie, surprised to find them still dancing in the front but now aware of their reason why. “So this is what you two were arguing about, this is Sherlock's new case?”

John nodded, his gaze focused on Sherlock and Emilie. They were now dancing in the middle of the dance floor, all eyes in the restaurant focused on them. Glancing back up to where he'd last seen Victor, John took note of where he was standing and with whom. He also made sure to remember what Victor and his companion had on in case the got lost in the crowd or moved from their current seat. Looking around, John took note of all the possible exit's in the room as well as how many tables and waitstaff were present. Once done, John turned back towards the dance floor, surprised to find Sherlock's gaze on him. Confusion ran through him at the look on his face, the frustration in his eyes. Tilting his head, John asked a silent question, using his eyes to get his message across. When Sherlock nodded, John sighed then turned back to Mary. “It's more than just a case for him, this is personal.”

“Well, it would stand to reason if the man is after Sherlock's son it would be more than personal.” Mary said softly.

John nodded, “I'd kill anyone who threatened my child, no matter who it was. So I can kind of understand why we are here tonight.” John frowned. “Just wish you didn't have to get caught up in this entire situation.”

Mary gave John a tight smile. _Oh, if only you knew how involved I am, dear husband._ The thought made Mary wonder just how much more was she willing to sacrifice for Moran and his vendetta. She'd had no issues when they had been asked to go after Captain America but had drawn the line at the torture of his son. Only after having reassured his father that the boy wasn't dead as he feared. Mary hadn't enjoyed that assignment half as well as she used to, partly due to the fact that the boy had been involved. When Ross had arrived and demanded they start testing on him instead of his father, Mary had refused, forcing Sebastian and Magnussen to reassign her. “Do you expect it to be an especially dangerous situation? I mean, Victor isn't really known as the aggressive type, not unless he has an audience. Or so the rumors say.” Mary gave him a small smile, hoping her shell wasn't going to crack. She knew why Victor wanted Ford, knew that he needed an heir to protect his families fortunes and if he couldn't do that, they would lose everything.

John shook his head, “No, he didn't give off the impression as being the one to do anything without some type of back up.”

“Hey guys, god it's hot as hell out there!” Clint exclaimed as he and Aveline returned to the table. “We need at least a month's worth of water in order to survive all of those lights.” He grinned down at the woman in front of him, then looked back up at John and Mary. “You two look serious, did we interrupt anything?”

“No, we, uh, we were just talking about how surprising it is to see Victor here tonight.” John watched as Aveline's gray green gaze moved quickly around the room. He saw them widen in surprise when she spotted Victor and his companion.

“I had thought that he and Stryker had stopped speaking to each other.” Aveline said in a soft voice as she turned towards Clint.

John turned from Aveline to look at Victor's companion. A dark, headed man with a tan complexion and dark, piercing eyes. He looked unassuming sitting next to the pale, blond man in a dark blue suit and red tie. “Stryker who, uh, who is he? Is he someone we need to be worried about?” John turned back to Aveline, his gaze intense, body on high alert in case he was expected to react faster than usual.

“Colonel William Stryker, is someone that we suspected had ties to Victor but we never expected him to be seen with him so...publicly.” Aveline looked from Clint to John, a frown working her lips down. “He is not someone that we would like to have involved but it he is then we will need to deal with things a bit differently.”

John's gaze narrowed as he turned back to look at Victor and his companion, Col. Stryker. “What type of danger are we in dealing with this man?”

“Let's just say that if you knew any mutants or anyone with special abilities, Stryker will be the one to make sure you burn at the stake.” Clint tried not to glare at the man across the room from them. “He's tried to kidnap Bruce as well as a few other friends of ours. He's not someone you would see around Trevor but Moran...” Clint drifted off as he looked over at Aveline. “We need to get you back to the States, immediately. If he finds out...”

“He won't and if he does there is nothing he can do to me.” Aveline broke in softly. “We need to relax, he could simply be here to eat and enjoy his evening.”

“Not if Emilie and Sherlock have anything to say about it.” Clint looked over at the dance floor, a grim smile on his face. “They want Trevor's head and there is nothing that will stop them from getting it.”

“Nothing except Magnussen and Moran.” John said softly. Straightening up in his chair, he glanced over at Mary. He noticed she was pale and turned to her fully. “Mary, are you ok, you're a little pale?” John reached out to touch her shoulder and was surprised when she flinched back from him. “Mary, what is it, what's wrong?”

Mary listened as Aveline and Clint talked about Stryker, remembering the man who had tortured and tested on both Steve Rogers-Stark and his sons. Blinking at the sound of Jonh's voice, she turned to him, a small smile on her lips. “I'm just...I-I don't know what to say, this is...this, Stryker, he is the Major we've heard about on the news? The one who almost killed those children with abilities?”

Clint nodded, “He attacked Xavier's school for gifted children, largely due to hatred but he also wanted to experiment on them. To find out how they are able to do what they do and use it against them.”

“It's called the Sentinel program and if he gets enough private funding he won't need military backing. Which would put him out of our jurisdiction as well as our reach.” Aveline looked down at her phone as it vibrated in her hand. “Tony says we need to get back asap, he doesn't trust Stryker, not after...”

“After what, honey, talk to me tell me what Tony said.” Clint looked at Aveline, aware that both John and Mary were watching them. “Ave...”

“H-he experimented on Peter a-and Johnny. The files that we sent to Tony and Steve, they show what happened, what was done to Peter and Steve.” Aveline looked up at Clint and John, avoiding Mary's gaze altogether. “He wants them back, now that he has some idea of how the serum in Steve's blood works...”

“They took it from him though, Steve isn't Captain America anymore. They took all of the serum...” Clint started in confusion.

“No, they couldn't have taken it all, if they did it would have killed Captain Rogers. The only thing they can do is either try to make the serum from what they have or they can replicate it, if possible.” John looked over at Victor and Stryker one last time then turned to the dance floor. He scanned the dancers, looking for Sherlock and Emilie. When he didn't see them, John looked over the crowd again. “Where, uh, w-where is Sherlock and Emilie?” He turned back to the table, looking from Aveline to Clint.

“I don't know, they didn't say anything about leaving.” Aveline looked around the room in confusion.

“Victor's gone.” Clint said softly.

John's head snapped around, forgetting about Mary and everyone else in the restaurant. “We need to find them...immediately.”

“What ever it is he's done, he wouldn't possibly cause a scene in public, would he?” Mary looked at John, making sure her face was as blank as possible.

“He would, he would because of his little obsession...” John was cut off by the sound of his name. Turning, he looked up into a pair of worried ice blue eyes.

“John?” Sherlock looked around the table, surprised by the intent stares from everyone. “Has something happened?” Sherlock turned back to John, waiting for him to answer his question.

Taking a deep breath, John tried to calm down his racing heart. Sherlock was ok, he and Emilie were sitting directly across from them so he knew they were ok. “Victor left and we couldn't find you two and after everything that's happened...” John trailed off, taking a drink from the tumbler in front of him.

Sherlock nodded his head in understanding. “You thought that something had happened when Victor left.” At John's slight nod, Sherlock grinned. “We went to call Ford before he went to bed.” Sherlock could see Mary stiffen next to John, could see the way she paled every time Ford was mentioned. He didn't have to wonder if she'd been told of the attempted kidnapping. Sherlock was aware that John would inform her as would Moran or Magnussen. “He wished everyone a good evening as well and asked for a sweet in return for his good behavior.”

“That's my doing.” Clint chuckled. At Sherlock's confused look, he explained. “When ever we get a chance to see Ford, we usually bring him a present if he's been good and he's a huge fan of anything sweet.”

Sherlock smiled, “Then he will get a sweet.” At Emilie's soft laugh, he looked up, scanned the room again looking for Victor and was surprised to find him sitting two tables down from them. “Victor is now at two from us.” Sherlock whispered to Emilie. He watched as she picked up her menu, scanned it then scanned the room.

“Well, maybe our dance off got his attention?” Emilie smiled up at Sherlock, a small, tan hand pressed against Sherlock's chest, moving with his soft intake of breath. “He's awaiting verification, Sherlock.”

“Then we will give him what it is he wishes.” Sherlock leaned forward, raising a hand to cup her cheek. He pulled her gently closer, closing the distance between them. Giving her a small frown, Sherlock whispered against Emilie's lips. “John nu mă poate ierta după asta.”(John may never forgive me after this.)

Emilie glanced over at John, could see the jealousy, the anger, and pain he tried to hide and sighed. Looking up at Sherlock she raised a hand to cover the one against her cheek. “În cazul în care îl iubești, să aibă credință pe care o înțelege. Va fi dificil, dar voi doi pot avea ceea ce vrei, doar să fie pacient. Acest lucru va fi în curând peste tot si toată lumea va fi în sigurantă.”(If you love him, have faith that he understands. It will be difficult but you two can have what you want, just be patient. This will all be over soon and everyone will be safe.) Emilie leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against Sherlock's lips. She understood his statement, glad that Sam wasn't here as well. Pulling back, she gave him a small smile. “It will be ok, Shezza, have faith.”

Sherlock nodded, refusing to meet John's gaze. “I'm sure it will be, Em. Once we can get him to focus on something else we can take care of everything else.” He looked up at John, his face heating at the look he received. The sky blue eyes had darkened, watching him possessively. Sherlock didn't miss the anger or jealousy, he would have to be an idiot if he did but he also saw the love John had for him. The steadfast loyalty that has always been unwavering, no matter what Sherlock did. He gave John a small nod then motioned for the waiter.

John bit back the hot rush of anger that rose up in his throat, having to forcibly remind himself that Sherlock and Emilie were putting on a show. That they were not intentionally trying to hurt him but as Emilie kissed Sherlock and he responded, John couldn't help the sharp stab of jealous anger. The pain of having to watch someone else get to do what he so desperately wanted to do. _This is how he felt, this...this heartache is what he felt watching me with Mary._ John took another sip of his scotch, frowning down into the glass. He could do this, he's seen Sherlock in a lot more compromising positions before and he'd been able to handle it then. _That was before you knew he loved you. Before you knew what it felt like to make love to him. Before you knew what he looked like in the throes of an orgasm. Before you knew he had a son..._

“John, John are you ok? You've been sitting there staring at the menu for a while now. The waiter is waiting for your order, if you are ready to give it”

John blinked at the cold tone, turning to see Mary glaring at him. “Sorry, sorry, I-I apologize.” John turned towards the waiter and gave him his order. He glanced up at Sherlock, giving him a small smile. He could see the worry in the ice blue eyes, knew he was worried about things going wrong between them. Biting his bottom lip, John let his thoughts drift to what he needed to do next. Turning to Mary, he looked at her and asked, “When was the last time we had a vacation, just the two of us?” He could tell his question had taken her by surprise but he had a plan and wasn't going to let anything change him from his course.

“It's been a while, why, have something in mind?” Mary looked at John curiously, not missing the way Sherlock was watching them.

John nodded, “I might, we'll talk about it later when we get back to the flat.” He gave her a small smile. Glancing back behind him, he noticed that Victor was back in his seat but Stryker was gone. Shaking his head, John decided to focus on the immediate threat, once done they could move on to something else.

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to everyone reading, real life had to come first then I got stuck lol but now that things are settling down, let's get back to business...leave your comments, kudos, or suggestions! All are appreciated!!

“If you glare at it any harder mate, I'm pretty sure it'll warm back up.”

John looked up at the voice, a small grin curving his lips. “Morning Greg, get everything settled the other night?”

Greg nodded as he sat down in the chair across from John. “Yeah, was a long night but not as long as yours, from what I heard.” Greg frowned as he watched John hunch over his coffee. “Feel like talking about it?”

John wanted to tell Greg to piss off that he didn't feel like talking. John wanted to yell at him that it wasn't fair that he could be with Mycroft but he couldn't have Sherlock. _Emilie_ had Sherlock and there was nothing he could bloody do about it. He wanted to rant about the unfairness of the entire situation but knew that things couldn't be changed currently. John wasn't aware he'd spoken out loud, however, until Greg answered him, the surprise in his voice making John blink.

“Something must have happened for you to say something like that.” Greg looked at John in surprise. Whatever he was expecting to hear, it hadn't been the soft, angry statements John had just made. “And it's not like Mycroft and I are, _officially_ , exclusive.” At John's look of surprise, Greg gave him a small smile. “He, uh, he likes to keep his options open, in case things don't work out.” Shaking his head, he looked at John. “Anyway, what happened the other night?”

John took a deep breath, letting it out on a rough sigh. “We went to dinner, you know some posh place. One of those fancy places Mycroft and Sherlock's parents love so much. The food was good and so was the music, even the wine and brandy selections were excellent.” John glanced up at Greg then back down at his coffee cup. “It started off nice, I mean there was dancing and, uh, conversation.”

Greg looked at John closely, he didn't miss the pale face and flat eyes. Nor did he miss the tightness around his mouth or the tense shoulders. “John, mate, what else happened?”

“Do you know of a man named Col. William Stryker?” John looked up at Greg, studying the tan face in front of him. At his friends confused look, John shook his head. “He showed up at the restaurant with Victor. Seems the place was chosen because it's one of Victor's favorite places for dinner.” John tried to hide the note of anger in his voice but from Greg's expression he hadn't been successful. “Mary was with us Greg and despite everything, she _is_ still pregnant and if the child is mine...”

Greg sighed, “You don't want her in harm's way and no the name doesn't sound familiar. What do you know of him, is he someone we should be worried about?”

John nodded, “From what Aveline and Clint said, he's had dealings with Victor before. They supposedly had a falling out of sorts but were together the other night. Whatever it is that's going on, it's a lot bigger than just Sherlock or Mycroft.” John debated on telling Greg what he'd overheard from Mary. Should he let his friend know that Mycroft or Sherlock could possibly be in danger? How were they supposed to focus if more people kept getting involved?

“Well, looks like we need to do some searching and find out who it is we're dealing with, yeah?” Greg watched as John nodded. The look on his face said something else was bothering him as well. “That's not the only thing on your mind though, is it?”

John shook his head, his hands tightening around his cup. How did he explain to Greg that he was jealous, jealous of a woman Sherlock's known most of his life, of a son John never knew Sherlock had, and of a relationship that's not even real. “They kissed each other, Sherlock and Emilie, it wasn't a long kiss but...” John broke off, his jaw clenched tight. “It was long enough to appease the crowd and...” John paused in angry frustration.

“And long enough to make you wonder about things.” Greg finished softly. “Come on John, you know he wouldn't do anything to hurt you and if he knew this was hurting you he'd avoid it in the future. Sherlock's a lot of things but he's not insensitive when it comes to you.” Greg gave his friend a quick grin and nod.

John sighed, “It's not just that. It's...how can I ask that of him, knowing I don't have the right to? I know Sherlock's not doing it intentionally and neither is Emilie but that doesn't change how I feel.” John held the dark gaze in front of him. “I'm jealous, Greg, of everything Emilie has with Sherlock. Whether it's fake or real, I'm jealous because I could have had it.” John looked down at the table top, his eyes tracing the pattern of the tile. “I still want it, Greg, more than anything and...”

Greg frowned, he'd had a feeling things were going to come down to this. “And you being who you are won't talk to Sherlock because of Mary, Emilie, and Ford.”

John frowned down into his coffee. “I sound like a jealous, love sick idiot. I should have just eloped with Sherlock when we had the chance but instead I wanted to do the honorable thing and tell Mary.” Sighing in frustration, John looked up at Greg. “The worst part about it is that I want to be a part of their lives, in any way they will let me.”

Greg frowned, “That's not necessarily a bad thing, mate. I mean, I'm sure Sherlock doesn't mind in the least and Ford seems to have become attached to you as well. So I don't see it as a negative from any perspective.”

“Ford is absolutely brilliant, isn't he? I've never seen a child who can understand things as well as he does and still keep his innocence.” John looked out of the store window, a sad smile curving his lips. “When will he realize just how dangerous the world truly is? I'd really hate to see the innocent wonder leave his eyes. For him to realize that not everyone means him well.”

Greg looked thoughtful, taking a sip from his coffee cup, he gave a small hum of pleasure. “He's like Sherlock, full of curious energy and wonder.” Looking at John, his expression turned serious. “Looking at him, you would think he's never been involved in a gun fight or has had to be on the run with his mother. Living from one tribe to the next until they had to leave the country. Wondering if the people chasing them were ever going to kill them or not.” Greg looked at John, a small smile on his lips as he held his friends gaze. “Ford is very informative when you really listen to him. His stories are rather fascinating, if you or Sherlock ever take a mind to listen to them. He has nightmares about his great grandfather and a man he say's he's never met but seen before. Something about the man trying to hurt Em and his grandfather then trying to take Ford.”

John stiffened as he listened to Greg talk. “Emilie's never said anything and if Sherlock knew he would have said or done something about it. Are you saying that Ford is telling you these, _stories_? Why would his great grandfather want to harm him? Emilie is his only grandchild from what I understand, if something happens to her father she inherits everything.” At Greg's frown, John paused. “Or not? What is it, what have you and Mycroft found out?” John leaned forward, watching his friends expression closely, wondering at the pinched tightness around his eyes and lips.

Greg sighed as he debated on what he wanted to tell John. “Ok, if I tell you, you have to promise to let Mycroft talk to Sherlock first.” At the stubborn set of John's jaw, Greg chuckled. “He doesn't want the pleasure of hurting his brother, he just knows it's easier for Sherlock to be mad at him instead of you.”

Frowning, John let out a soft huff. “Fine, I'll go along with this for as long as it's a benefit for Sherlock and Ford. If I feel it's gone to far I'm telling him everything.” John sat back in his seat, folding his arms over his chest as he waited for Greg to speak.

Greg nodded. “That's reasonable.” Taking a deep breath, Greg leaned forward. “Ok, well we know that Victor's family is almost out of money. Seems the old Viscount has been making some bad investments and has gone through not only his money, he's currently working on Victor's inheritance as well. The only money left is a trust for Danial left to him by his mother, which, conveniently, requires an _heir_ in order to get it.”

John frowned, “But I thought _Victor_ is the one who needed an heir. What does his brother have to do with anything?”

“Have you seen Danial Trevor lately?” Greg looked at John closely, searching his face for something.

“Not that I can recall.” At Greg's look of surprise, John leaned forward. “The only picture I saw was him in full officer's uniform and that's been a while. Why, what's so special about him?”

Greg could feel his face heating as he thought about the picture Mycroft had shown him. “He's a fine enough looking bloke. Doesn't look a thing like his brother or father, now.”

John looked confused, he'd heard a few rumors about the Viscount of Foxbury's youngest son. “Well, if he's wanted for gun running, it would make sense that he would feel the need to change his appearance. Quite an embarrassment for the family, I'd imagine.”

“Precisely what I told Mycroft and of course he looked at me as if I were being an idiot, so felt the need to explain.” At John's deepening frown, Greg leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Danial is the _Viscount's_ biological son, despite the rumors that he was the product of an affair between him and one of his servants. From his picture, he was a blond but much darker than Victor and his father. Almost as if you were to see...” Greg paused, his dark gaze holding John's. “ _Sherlock_ as a blond.” At John's swift intake of breath, Greg nodded. “From what Myc would say, and you know as well as I do that it's not much, there was never any truth founded to the rumors of an affair. Despite Danial's darker coloring, he's still an heir...an heir with money.”

John's expression turned thoughtful, his gaze staring absently outside as he went over what Greg was telling him. “Would explain why Victor is after Ford then, he wants to use him as Danial's son, as a way of breaking his trust.” John looked back at Greg. “There's something else though, what is it?”

Greg nodded, “The problem is that all the males in the family have those light eyes. Not like Sherlock or Mycroft, mind you, but this unique color, gold or bronze. Reminds one of...”

“A lion.” John said softly. “The family crest had a lion on it because of the eyes.” John said softly, his brow furrowed as a memory started to come back to him.

Greg nodded, studying John closely. “You've seen him before, he would be tall, dark hair, golden eyes. Looks almost like his brother except for that _hair_.”

John frowned, “I remember seeing someone like that back when I was over seas working with the Americans but...” John was cut off by the sound of Greg's phone ringing.

“Damnit, sorry mate, told the office to call me once they had what I needed.” Greg frowned as he answered his phone. “Lestrade, oh hey, no, uh hold on, ok?” Turning to John, he gave him an apologetic smile. “I'll be right back, gotta take this call.”

John nodded, watching as Greg stood up and headed for a more quieter spot in the shop. Sighing, he went back over their conversation, trying to remember the last time he'd seen Danial Trevor. He was getting up to get a refill when his phone went off with a message from Sherlock.

_Need you to come to 221B when convenient. -SH_

Chuckling, John replied that he'd be there shortly and did he want anything from the coffee shop.

_Ford wishes are for a cream filled confection and I would prefer a coffee, you know how I like it with any sweet of your choosing. - SH_

_Even if I do not eat it immediately. - SH_

John chuckled as he put in his order with the barista, making sure they made the coffee specifically as Sherlock wanted, then turned and scanned the shop for Greg. He wanted to finish their conversation. If what they were thinking about Danial was right, they would need to talk to Emilie and Sherlock immediately. Especially if Victor became desperate enough to try and kidnap Ford.

“Order ready for you, Dr. Watson.”

John turned to the young lady behind him and smiled as he took the small box and drink carrier. When he turned around, Greg was making his way over to him. “Feel like stopping by Baker Street? Sherlock and Ford put an order in for sweets.” He grinned as Greg chuckled at the sight of the small blue and white box.

“Sure, let me grab another cup of coffee and we can share a taxi. Maybe I'll get something for Ford as well.” Greg looked up at the menu over the counter, reading the display.

“Anything with cream and sprinkles should make him happy.” John said absently as he watched a couple walk by the window. He frowned at the flash of blond and brunette hair above the coat collars. Walking towards the door, he kept his gaze on them until they disappeared around the corner of the adjoining building. He could have sworn it had been Mary, the coat looked just like the one she'd had on that morning. It looked like she had been with the new clinic nurse, David. Shaking his head, he grinned when Greg walked up beside him. “Get everything you wanted?”

“And then some, Myc may or may not be enjoying a few doughnuts tonight.” He gave John a crooked grin as they left the shop and he hailed a cab. “Why are we going to Baker Street, Sherlock find something new?” He climbed into the back of the cab that pulled up in front of them, get as comfortable as possible.

“Not to sure, he just text asking that I stop by.” John entered the cab behind Greg, looking back down the street one last time before closing the door. “He usually never does, just makes a demand and expects me to follow through.”

Greg chuckled, “Sounds just like his brother.” He turned to look at the building's they passed, his thoughts turning to Mycroft. “You know mate, I'll be glad when we can finally catch this killer. This case is hitting a little closer to home than needed.”

John nodded, his thoughts turning back to, the couple he'd seen earlier. “You're right, a lot of things aren't adding up anymore or not as well as we'd originally thought.” John could have sworn Mary's doctor was in the same neighborhood as the coffee shop but couldn't remember if she had an appointment today or not. “It makes you wonder just how much of this is real and how much is a trick.” John said absently. He looked down at his phone, a thought flitting at the back of his mind. Something was not right, the timing of things between himself and Mary. Sherlock had been gone for almost three years, two of which he'd grieved, the last one however...

“John, mate you alright? You're going to crush the box with the way you're holding it.”

John blinked as he cut his thoughts short. Looking down, he saw that the doughnut box had almost been smashed in his hand. Groaning in frustration, he glanced over at Greg. “Did you ever wonder whysomething's happen and others just seem to damn good to be true?”

Greg looked at John in confusion, unsure of how to answer. He shook his head, glancing up behind John and breathed a soft sigh of relief as they pulled onto Baker Street. “What's on your mind, mate. You look upset about something.”

“I could have sworn I saw Mary and one of our co-workers before we left the shop.” John said softly. “I had just gotten my order when I turned around and...” John paused, taking a deep breath as the cab slowed in front of 221B. “I turned around and there they were.” He drifted off as another memory drifted through his mind. “I was just getting back on my feet when I met Mary. I literally turned around and there she was at hospi...” John broke off as the cab door opened and he suddenly found himself with an armful of excited toddler.

“John, Greg!” Ford cried with excitement. He threw his arms around John's neck before he could exit the cab properly.

“I thought we agreed we would allow John and Lestrade the chance to exit the car _before_ attacking them.”

John looked up at the sound of Sherlock's voice, smiling as he watched him walking towards the cab. Stepping out of the car, John set Ford down on his feet then handed the driver the fare. Chuckling, he looked up at Sherlock. “I don't really mind, Sherlock, at least he trusts me and that's a plus in my book.” He handed Ford the small box in is hands, making sure to keep the hot coffee out of reach. “Here, Master Sherringford, are your requested treats.” He gave Ford a sheepish grin as he examined the bent box. “My apologies on the state of your package, bad driver.”

Ford squealed in childish delight as he took the box from John and raced over to his father. “Tata, uite, John a adus dulciuri! Pot avea al meu? Când vei mânca a ta? Trebuie să împărtăsesc cu toată lumea? Ce se întâmplă dacă nu există suficient pentru a partaja?”(Papa, look, John brought sweets! Can I have mine? When will you eat yours? Do I have to share with everyone? What if there isn't enough to share?)

Sherlock chuckled as he watched the pleasure dance in his son's eyes. Reaching down to pick Ford up, he glanced over at John. His face heating at the look he was given. “Take the box inside and make sure your Aunt see's it first. Save mine and we will eat them after dinner.” He laughed at his son's response, hugging him close then setting him back on his feet. Turning to Greg he nodded his head, “Lestrade, good that you're here as well. Will save me from having to text you later.” Turning he followed Ford back into the flat, aware of a pair of sky blue eyes following him. Aveline is here as well as her bodyguard, Craig, Chris...” Sherlock muttered.

“It's Clint, Sherlock, his name is Clint.” John looked over at Greg, rolling his eyes at Sherlock's obvious lack of memory.

“Yes, well, Clint is here but Aveline and Sam are out for some much needed peace.” Sherlock looked behind him, his gaze moving quickly over John and Greg then back forward.

Greg grinned as he and John followed Sherlock, leaning forward he whispered loudly to his friend. “Do you think either of them noticed I had a box of sweets as well?”

John chuckled, “He noticed, he just didn't say anything.” He was stopped short by the sounds of angry voices shouting in Italian. Looking over at Greg, he frowned. “Wonder who that could be?”

“It is Aveline and her cousin, Tony Stark. It would seem that he does not trust us to protect his cousin with men such as Moran and Magnussen on the loose.” Sherlock said softly. His gaze moved from John to Greg. “Mr. Stark is under the belief that my brother knows more than he is sharing and I am inclined to agree. Mycroft is notorious for withholding important information.” Sherlock turned and headed back up the stairs. “Especially if it will help him achieve _his_ goal, no matter the consequences to anyone else.”

“Tony, Tony calmati! Stai cercando di dirmi che Mycroft sa più di quello che sta dicendo, ma che non mi stai dicendo cosa si tratta?! Come faccio ad andare con lui di questo e non mi date tutti i tipi di prove?!”(Tony, Tony calm down! You're trying to tell me that Mycroft knows more than he's telling but you're not telling me what it is?! How am I supposed to go to him about this and you aren't giving me any type of proof?!)

John walked into the sitting room behind Sherlock. Looking to his right, he nodded his head in greeting to Clint. Turning to his left he paused in his steps as he was greeted by the holographic image of a man pacing the length of the room. Looking over at Sherlock, he was surprised to see the childlike interest he was showing the image. “Sherlock, is that...”

“It is a holographic image of Tony Stark.” Sherlock said softly. “Look at how smooth the image is, John, can you imagine...” Sherlock drifted off as Tony stopped in front of Aveline, dark eyes hard and glaring.

_“_ _Il bastardo sta proteggendo Ross e questo abominio cosa, creatura, persona! Non cazzo sapere ma sapeva sulla trama sequestro! Aveva preavviso da Mortiarty prima che lui si è ucciso! Sapete quanto tempo fa è stato ho avuto rapporti con quel bastardo?! Si suppone che sia morto, Aveline...D-E-A-D... morto! Ma in qualche modo è riuscito a raggiungere la mia famiglia e Holmes lo sapeva! Sono andato con i file che mi hai mandato, quelli criptati erano l'inferno, ma le informazioni in loro...”_ _(The bastard is harboring Ross and this Abomination thing, creature, person! I don't fucking know but he knew about the kidnapping plot! He had advance warning from Mortiarty before he killed himself! Do you know how long ago it was I've had dealings with that bastard?! He's supposed to be dead, Aveline...D-E-A-D...dead! But some how he was able to get to my family and Holmes knew about it! I went through the files you sent me, the encrypted ones were hell but the information in them...)_

Aveline frowned as she turned to Sherlock, “Where is your brother now, Sherlock?”

“He's more than likely at his office in meetings, if I know him.” Sherlock said softly. He watched as Aveline turned back to the hologram, listening to the conversation in front of him.

“Show me what you've found, Tony. Sherlock has a right to know, especially since this has to deal with his son as well.”

Tony frowned, looking from Aveline to Sherlock. _“You're sure you can trust him? I mean, fuck, his brother is the one who knew about this and didn't even tell_ him _anything.”_

“Sherlock was locked in the same compound as Steven and the boys. The intel shows that they were on opposite sides. Sherlock, just like Steven, has a right to know why.” Aveline said softly, watching as Tony struggled to hold in what he wanted to say. She smiled as he turned his head to his left, a soft smile curving his lips. “Tell Steven and the boys, I said hello.”

Tony nodded, still turned to the side. _“I'll have J give you access to everything we have.”_ Tony turned back to Aveline, his face serious. _“For the sake of the boys and my husband, don't make me regret this Avie. I love you and you're family but I have to put them first.”_

Aveline smiled, “Trust me, I know how much they mean to you. Once we have the information we need I'll have JARVIS inform you so you can do what ever you need to with it. If Thaddeus is involved, you, ummm, you may want to make sure Bruce doesn't go anywhere alone.” She watched as Tony frowned but remained silent. “I will let you know what we find, until then make sure that Wade stays close to the boys and we will see you soon.”

_“Steve says hey.”_ He glanced behind her then back to Aveline. _“Please be careful, Ave. I'm sending you a care package, so enjoy and I'll talk to you soon.”_

Sherlock watched as the hologram disappeared then turned to Aveline. “Aveline, what information is it that Mr. Stark found?” Moving forward, Sherlock looked at the holoscreens in front of her, moving through them rapidly. He could feel his temper flaring as he read the information. “He knew, Mycroft _knew_ there was more than one and swore I was wrong. That I did not know what I was talking about.” Sherlock stepped closer to Aveline, his voice a harsh whisper as he read the screen on her left. “There were two of them, not twins but brothers, separated at birth by parents who couldn't afford to care for them both. Why would Mycroft not tell me, why would he...”

“Because if you had known, you would have devoted your entire life to tracking them both down. Thus ensuring that Sherringford was robbed of his father's love and time.”

The room went silent as everyone turned at the sound of Mycroft's voice. Sherlock's gaze narrowed on his brother, a frown curving his lips down. “He was robbed of my love and time for _three years_ , Mycroft. Do you understand what it is you have done?! You have put the lives of Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, and John in danger. Danger that now includes _my son_!” Sherlock glared at the silent man standing in the doorway. He could feel his face heating with his anger. “The information Mr. Stark has, is it accurate? Is what he found everything I should have been told _before_ I had to disappear for three years?”

Mycroft blinked at Sherlock's tone, his body stiffening in self defense. “That is everything I know and anything I was told or given as proof.” He took a deep breath and looked from Sherlock to Greg then back. “I need you to understand, brother...”

Sherlock cut him off with a harsh sound from the back of his throat. “ _I_ need to understand?! _I need to understand!_ Do _you_ understand the danger you have put not only my family but Aveline's as well?!” Sherlock could hear _his_ voice, the violent, twisted tone he'd used when they had confronted each other at the pool. _If you don't stop prying, I will burn you. I will burn...the_ heart _out of you._ “He threatened to burn the heart out of me, at the pool, he had John standing in front of me with a bomb strapped to his chest. He threatened _everyone_ I hold dear to me on the rooftop of Bart's. All of this,” Sherlock glared at Mycroft as they slowly circled each other around the room. “Everything I went through, John, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson went through, was for what purpose, a game?!” Sherlock wanted to hear Mycroft tell him in his own words. He wanted to hear that his deductions were wrong that his brother had not sacrificed everyone for the amusement of two mad men. “Answer me, Mycroft! Was this all some elaborate game between you and Moriarty's brother!”

Mycroft took a deep breath, standing opposite Sherlock, he looked him in the eyes and answered. “Yes, he felt his brother was far more superior to you and I...I happened to disagree.”

“I think we'll go into the kitchen and finish these.” Sherlock watched as Clint picked up Ford and the box of sweets John had given him. He watched as they moved to the kitchen and went back to enjoying their treats.

Sherlock turned back around, his vision narrowing on his brother as he went over everything he knew. The information about Moriarty as well as what Tony had sent Aveline showed that Mycroft had known long before Moriarty had appeared on the scene. “The brother you had in custody was _James_ Moriarty, his brother, _Andrew,_ was the one playing the game. The one where a number of people almost lost their lives.” Sherlock turned away from Mycroft as he went over everything he'd read. His brother had said that everything in the files was accurate. That the network he'd taken down had indeed been Moriarty's but they had also been working with other groups. One of which had kidnapped Steve Rogers and both of his sons. “We must find out what Mary knows, immediately. If the files are correct then she and Moran were the ones responsible for the kidnapping of Stark's family. Then we can find out why Victor has not left London.”

“Victor is still here due to Emilie and Ford. He is going to try and pass Ford off as Danial's son by forcing you to give Ford to him. Once done, he will be able to break Danial's trust.” Mycroft said softly. He was aware that his brother was seething on the inside, of the angry, silent Detective Inspector standing next to him as well. “I, apologize, Sherlock for not telling you sooner. It was not inten...”

“You had every intention of not telling me or anyone else for that matter.” Sherlock snarled as he rounded on his brother. “This is no different than your promise to keep everyone safe, you have now shown that the only thing that matters to you is _your_ work, nothing else! If anything happens to John, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, or _my son_ , I will make sure that you regret it, _brother dearest_.” Sherlock hissed as he glared at Mycroft. Ice blue eyes narrowed as he took in his brother's usually unflappable appearance. Then he noticed a flicker of something pass across the hawk like features. The ice gray eyes held a note of fear but not because of Sherlock. “He threatened someone else, didn't he? I am certainly an inducement for someone such as Moriarty but there is someone else that he used to force your...” Sherlock broke off as he turned to Lestrade. “He knew your weaknesses almost as well as he knew mine, except you kept yours hidden better than I.”

John looked between the two brothers, surprise and anger warred for dominance as he listened to their argument. It wasn't until Sherlock was watching Mycroft and Greg did he realize what was going on. Turning to Mycroft, John took a deep breath. “Ok, right, so am I to understand that this...madman...planned all of this out, told you he was going to do it, and then you proceeded to ignore him?” When Mycroft didn't answer, John's brow furrowed in frustration. “You are a right bloody prick, Mycroft. If we had known sooner what was going on, the reason behind Moriarty's fucking games, we could have done something different!” John bit out angrily.

“He threatened Sherringford before he threatened Sherlock. I could not very well risk the life of both my nephew and my brother.” Mycroft's gaze narrowed on John. “Do not think, Dr. Watson that I do not value Sherlock or Ford anymore than I value Gregory. If I could have handled it myself I would have, however there is a level of...innocence that Moriarty was after, one that I can not duplicate. Sherlock, however, can and has on a number of occasions.”

John blinked at Mycroft's statement. “Just what the bloody hell does that even mean?” He glared at Mycroft, noticing the way he stood in front of Greg. Looking between the two men, John frowned as a thought occurred to him. Turning to Sherlock, he started in surprise. Both were standing in the same position, Mycroft in front of Greg and Sherlock in front of John. “They threatened Greg first then Sherlock, when you refused they went after Ford.”

Sherlock took a deep breath, followed by another. He needed to calm down and think. He needed to go back over everything he knew from the very beginning. He frowned as his gaze found his brother's. “You do understand that you're going to have the pleasure of explaining to Emilie, _why_ her son is in danger.”

“That...would be the fault of her grand father, not mine. It would seem he owes a sizable debt to the Moriarty brothers. One that required the first born male of the family.” Mycroft's gaze didn't wave, nor did he flinch as Sherlock took an angry step forward.

Turning back towards the kitchen, Sherlock watched as Clint and Ford played at the table. They had built a train set a few days ago and Ford had shown a high degree of interest. “As for the kidnapping plot concerning the Stark family? What of that, why did you not tell Aveline?”

“She was in court dealing with General Ross, I was unaware that Col. Stryker was being investigated until recently.” Mycroft glanced over at Aveline then back to Sherlock.

“The information had come to use after Steve and Peter were supposedly killed. We weren't sure it was believable but we followed every lead, every bread crumb we could find and still...” Aveline drifted off softly.

Sherlock sighed in frustration. “There are to many loose ends in the entire situation but it all leads to one person.” He pulled on his curls in anger, his temper making him shake as he tried not to attack his brother. He closed his eyes as the voice in his head kept whispering threats to him, slowly fading to the sounds of a person screaming in pain. An angry voice demanding someone to stop what they were doing, to stop hurting someone. The pleas of a desperate person...

“Sherlock, are you ok?” John moved in front of Sherlock, his hands gripping his biceps tightly. “Sherlock, answer me?!” He gave him a small shake, watching as the ice blue eyes slowly focused on him.

Sherlock jerked at the feel of John's hands on his arms, flinching back instinctively. He sucked in a harsh breath as he focused on the tired, tan face in front of him. “John, we must go back. To the night at the pool, do you remember everything that was said? Do you remember when Moriarty said that he knew my every weakness? Magnussen said the same that night at the warehouse.”

John frowned as he ran his hands soothingly up and down Sherlock's arms. “That would mean they knew each other as well.” John's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Giving a soft hum of displeasure, he stepped back from Sherlock, turning to Greg. “In the cab, remember what I was saying about timing?”

Greg nodded, “Yeah, that it was odd, the timing of Mary's appearance in your life.”

“Right before Sherlock returned.” John said softly. “She knew, she knew that Sherlock was either dead or on his way back to London.” He could feel his temper spiking, his hands clenched with the need to feel something between them.

“John?” Sherlock reached out tentatively. He could see the rage building in the short blond. “What is it, what do you mean by timing?”

“I grieved for you for two years before I met Mary. From the news stories about the Stark family, they went missing around that same time.” John frowned. “Except for the kidnapping of his youngest son. Mary was already here and we were dating.” John frowned as he thought about everything that happened after Sherlock's fall up to the day he met Mary.

“Her name is not Mary Morstan and you have come across her before. The recon mission in Istanbul, the one where we lost the junior officer.”

John looked up to see Emilie and Sam standing in the doorway. Before he could say anything, he watched Sherlock move towards her.

“How much did you hear.” He scanned the pale face in front of him trying to gauge his brother's level of danger.

“Enough to know that I should never have trusted your brother with the safety of my son.” Emilie said in a scathing tone. Her ice green gaze moved from Sherlock to Mycroft, taking in the air of haughty disdain. “Do not think, Mycroft that just because you are my son's uncle, I will not kill you. If anything happens to Ford, I promise you...”

“You would need to speak with your grandfather about why Ford is in danger. That is not something I was able to immediately discern beyond the promise of the first born male heir.” Mycroft stated in a matter of fact tone. He could see his tone had hit a nerve with both Sherlock and Emilie but he held his ground as both rounded on him.

“Mind your tone Myc, you may feel you are justified in what you have done but it _still_ Sherlock and Emilie's son.” Greg said softly from behind Mycroft. He watched as ice gray eyes focused on him in surprise.

“I meant no disrespect, Gregory...” Mycroft started but was cut off by Sherlock.

“The disrespect has already been had.” Sherlock said softly. He looked from Emilie to John, then to Ford. Watching as the toddler raced around the kitchen with a model airplane. “Not only to us but to Ford as well.”

“I apologize, Sherlock, I can fix this but it would require your help.” Mycroft took a step towards his brother, watching as he tensed but didn't move away. “Truly, William, I did not mean to put either of you in danger.”

Sherlock tried to ignore the memories that sprang up with the use of his first name. Shaking his head, he looked at Mycroft. “Yes, well, it looks like I have no other choice do I. I will naturally have to ensure not only Ford's safety but John's safety as well.”

“Oi, I can bloody well take care of myself Sherlock and Mycroft,” John turned to the elder brother. “You don't get off easy, trust me when I say you more than owe all of us.”

“I must return to the states, the threat to my cousin's family is very much real and he will do anything to ensure their safety.” Aveline took a deep breath. “Even if that means accessing a program long since abandoned.” Walking over to Emilie, Aveline gave her a tight hug. “I am leaving Sam here with you, you will need him for more than just protection.” She turned to Sherlock and John, “I will let you know what I find out as soon as I find anything. Sam has all access codes to the current files if you wish to go over them. There will be two Stark padds left here to assist you if needed.” Giving them both a short nod, Aveline turned toward the kitchen, glancing back over her shoulder, she directed her last statement to Mycroft. “Just as you treasure your family, Mycroft, I treasure mine. You should learn to trust yours, however, more than you do.”

Sherlock watched as Aveline walked into the kitchen then turned to face his brother. “We will discuss this later, I have plans with Ford and despite my usual preoccupation with a case, I find that I would much rather spend time with my son.” Sherlock looked at everyone in the room, his gaze cold as he looked at Mycroft. Turning, he walked towards the kitchen and took a deep breath. This time...this time he would make sure that all loose ends were tied up, even if it killed him.

 


	18. Chapter 18

“Excuse me, did I hear you correctly? Did you just say you're moving _back_ to Baker Street?” Mary stood in the middle of the kitchen, her hands on her hips as she stared at John in surprise. Despite the minor indiscretions between John and Sherlock, Mary was willing to overlook them for the sake of her marriage and unborn child. She had been sure that things were slowly getting better between them. Now, however, it seemed that John had other plans. “I'm confused, why the sudden desire to move back to Baker Street?”

“It wouldn't be immediately but we both know there's been a strain between us since we got back from our honeymoon, if not before.” John let out a tired sigh. He didn't want to argue with Mary about this, especially since she was pregnant but he couldn't keep living a lie. “I'm not abandoning you or the baby...”

“Well, unfortunately that's exactly what it feels like you're doing.” Mary cut in sharply. “You're giving up on this marriage before even really trying to work things out!” Mary glared at John, looking closely, she paused. Something was different, something happened that changed everything. “What happened for you to change your mind so suddenly? You were just talking about us taking a holiday together, what made you rethink working on _us_? Did what happen with Sherlock have anything to do with you changing your mind?”

John stared down at the table, his gaze on the steaming cup of tea he held. “That has nothing to do with my decisi...”

“It has _everything_ to do with your decision!” Mary cut John off again, her temper getting the best of her. “You think I don't know, John? You think I don't know you want him more than me? More than your own _child_?! You think I don't know about the nights you've spent with him, in _his bed_ , when you should have been at home with me?!” She glared at him, her hatred of Sherlock sounding in her words. “So please, do not sit here and tell me that nothing happened to change you're mind and it not involve Sherlock _bloody_ Holmes!”

“Fine, damnit, since you absolutely must know!” John stood up suddenly, his blue gaze hard and piercing. “When we were kidnapped our abductors made sure we understood that our families were in danger, so it would only make sense that I do what's needed to protect you and the baby. You're not staying here, you'll be going to your sisters until this is all taken care of.” John turned away from Mary with a weary sigh. “I don't want anything to happen to you two and after the threats that were made...” John looked at Mary, hoping his gaze held the right amount of sadness and worry. “I'm not willing to take that chance with either of your lives.”

Mary listened to John with her arms folded over her stomach, her anger almost choking her. Sherlock, no matter what she did it would always come down to John wanting Sherlock! “If these, _people_ , threatened your family, why would you not wish to stay and protect us? Why send us away?”

“They won't think to look for you in the country and I can focus better on helping bring them in if I know you two are safe.” John slowly walked towards Mary, a small smile on his lips. “Look at it this way, you're getting a much needed holiday. Something that would be good for you and the baby.” He placed a hand on Mary's stomach, a small smile curving his lips. “He or she deserves a chance in this world and having a murdering ex Army Colonel waiting to kill us should not be their concern.” John looked up into Mary's eyes. He could see her anger but he could also see the love she held for him as well. John knew that if he could get Mary out of the city and away from her contacts, it eliminated one of the risks to Sherlock and his son. “Besides, you'll need to do some shopping as well.” He chuckled at her startled look. “What did you expect to do while on holiday?”

Mary looked at John in surprise. “Shopping, why would I go shopping? What's the occas...”

“Sherlock's engagement party is in a few weeks and you will need something to wear.” John gave her a small nod and smile. “I know you didn't think we wouldn't be going, I am the best man after all.” John almost chocked on the words. Aware now how it must have felt to Sherlock when he had asked him to be his best man. He turned away from Mary and back towards the table. Picking up his now cold tea and empty plate, John placed everything in the sink. “I know things haven't been perfect between us but that doesn't mean I don't care what happens to you or the baby.” He looked up at Mary and sighed. “I know you think it's all an excuse but trust me when I say that these people have no qualms about using our families against us. I can not have that, so please, Mary, pack a bag and let me take you to your sister's until things have calmed down.”

May sighed, she wasn't sure what had happened to change John's mind but she wasn't going to argue about it any longer. “Fine, I'll pack a few things and be ready by this evening.”

John nodded, “Thank you, Mary. I've got a few errands to run before we leave. Do you need anything while I'm out?”

“No, I believe I'll be fine for now. I'll pick up what ever I do not have once I get to my sisters.” Mary stated, she was going over everything John had just told her. If what he said was true and he and Sherlock had been threatened by Sebastian, then she would need to pay him a visit. She could not allow Moran to get away with trying to kill John, not when she was finally trying to live a normal life with someone she loved. “Do you expect to be gone long?”

“No, I've got to go by the clinic to make sure they can cover me for a few days then over to Greg's place.” At her soft sound of surprise, John gave her a small smile. “What's wrong, sweetheart?”

“I-I thought you said you were moving back to Baker Street, why are you going to Greg's apartment?” Mary frowned in confusion.

“I'm heading there then heading after stopping by NSY to make a report. I'm dropping off a bag or two off since I'll be staying with Greg while you're on holiday.” John frowned down at his phone, reading the latest text from Sherlock.

_When are you due to arrive back at Baker Street? Your assistance is required, immediately._ \- SH

_If this is to find something that you could very well get up off your lazy arse and look for yourself, then I will not be back for another few hours._ \- JHW

_So does that mean you are on your way once you have left your flat?_ \- SH

John bit back a sharp laugh as he looked up into Mary's angry face. “Sorry, sorry uh, as I said before, I won't be moving back to Baker Street immediately. Sherlock and Emilie still have guests in town.”

Mary looked at John closely, taking in the flushed cheeks and suddenly bright, sky blue eyes. She had a feeling that the text message John was reading came from Sherlock and tried to push back her anger, until the smile that curved John's lips. He wasn't aware that she was watching him as he sent back a response, completely ignoring her, yet again. “It must be rather crowded then, Sherlock and Emilie in one room their guests and Ford in another. It's a wonder they'll have a room for you upon your return.” Mary watched as John looked up quickly at her statement.

John tried to control his temper at Mary's soft statement. “I'll be staying with Greg until their guests leave.” Taking a deep breath, John closed his phone then turned to look at Mary directly. “I know you're having a difficult time with this and I am truly sorry but again, this is for the best concerning you and the baby. You'll still be back in a few weeks for the engagement party.” John hoped his face didn't give away how much those words hurt. He knew that if Mary got even the smallest hint that he was lying it would ruin everything.

Sighing, Mary nodded. “Very well, I will go pack. When should I be ready to leave?”

John glanced down at his watch. “Well, let's say around seven? Gives us a chance to avoid traffic and enjoy the drive. We can grab something to eat and a couple of waters on the way.”

“Very well, I'll be ready by the time you return.” Mary turned and left the kitchen. Anger making her steps short and clipped. She was angry that she was still having to compete with Sherlock for John's attention. Not even the idea of Sherlock getting _married_ meant anything to John! As Mary pushed the door to their bedroom open, she took a deep breath and tried to remember that she knew how things were going into this marriage. That John was still in love with Sherlock hadn't bothered her. She had felt confident enough that John would never choose Sherlock over his wife, especially not over his child but it seems she didn't count on John's love for Sherlock being so strong. Sighing, Mary looked around the room, trying to decide what she wanted to take with her. “At least I'll be able to do some shopping. I can also find out what happened with Sebastian.” Mary muttered.

She was in the middle of packing when her phone alerted her to a text message. Reaching over to the nightstand, she picked up her cell and frowned. It seemed good old Sebastian was looking for her as well. Moving towards the bedroom door, Mary opened it and listened, trying to see where exactly John was in the flat. “John, are you still here?”

“I'm here, is there something you need?”

Mary could hear the smile in his voice, knew it wasn't because of her and bit back a scathing retort. “Would you mind picking up a bottle of sunscreen, I may feel the need to take a walk through the gardens.”

“Oh, uh, yeah sure. I'll pick it up on the way to Greg's and bring it when I return. Any particular brand?” John's head appeared at the top of the stairs, a smile on his face.

Mary sighed, some of her anger disappearing as she looked at John. She truly did love him and wanted a family with him but if he insisted on turning to Sherlock...

“Mary, are you ok? You seem to have something on your mind.” John looked at Mary, pretty sure he knew what she was thinking. His decision to move back to Baker Street had come as a surprise to her but it was the least of his worries. John's nerves were on edge at the fact that he would have most of the morning alone with Sherlock and Ford. Thanks to Sam's desire to spend as much time alone with Emilie in the guise of seeing the city. Everyone knew that once the supposed engagement party happened, things would get crazier than ever and right now some type of normalcy was needed. Even if certain sacrifices had to be made. “Mary?” John prompted softly.

“Oh, ummm, n-no. Sorry was just thinking of what else I might need. I'm sure we can pick it up once we've left.” Mary gave John a small smile.

John nodded, “Ok, well, I'm off to run some errands then by the clinic to cover my shifts. Make sure to ring me if you need anything else, I should be back in time with our sandwiches and drinks, unless you would still prefer to pick them up on the way?” John smiled at her small nod.

“The first idea sounds fine, be careful and I will see you when you return.” Mary tried to ignore the chimes of John's phone with back to back messages. She gave him a brittle smile as he waved and headed back down the stairs, listening as he picked up his wallet and keys. When the front door finally closed behind him and the bolt slid in the lock, Mary turned back to the bedroom. She needed to call Sebastian and find out what the hell John was talking about. There was no reason for Sebastian to harm the child unless...

Mary's thoughts were cut off by the shrill sound of her phone ringing. Looking down at the caller ID, her eyes narrowed as she picked it up and answered in a clipped tone. “Just what the hell did you do to my husband and why are you after Sherlock's son? I thought Magnussen only wanted Sherlock and his brother not...”

_“Well, hello to you too sweetheart. Didn't expect such a rude welcome but I didn't do anything to Johnny boy, yet. He and his scrawny detective were saved by his little fiancee. Who by the way knows you better than you seem to remember, so what you're going to do is listen and listen well...”_

John took the first cab he could and headed to Baker Street, he didn't need to pick up any bags seeing as he'd dropped them off with Greg earlier in the week. He couldn't help the giddy feeling running through him at the plans for the day. He hadn't expected to feel such anticipation about being able to spend sometime with both Ford and Sherlock. The idea of getting time alone with them both, being the sole focus of their full attention, John couldn't help his soft chuckle. The thrill of what the day held running through him as he drummed his fingers against his leg. When the cab finally pulled up to 221B, John all but jumped from the car, tossing the driver the fare and headed to the door. Using his key to unlock the door, his thoughts were cut short by the sound of voices coming from upstairs. Moving as silently as possible, John made his way up, listening to the conversation.

_“If Stryker's involved that means that who ever you're after is up to no good. We went through the files again. Steve's understandably upset and I prefer to just rage about it but Steve says no.”_

“Raging just tends to make it worse, I understand.” Aveline sighed. “Tell me, did Wade finally show?” Aveline looked at the holoscreen in front of her. She was sitting in the kitchen, talking to Tony, after having picked up breakfast for everyone. “He's supposed to report to you or Steve before he meets the boys.”

_“Got here late yesterday but he's been around for about a week? I don't know ask J or Steve. I've been trying to get my husband back to his Captain America self. Are those bullet holes in the wall? They get to shoot the walls and you guys yell at me when I set something on fire! Why don't I get to shoot the walls?!”_

Aveline laughed, moving the screen so Tony could no longer see the wall behind her. “Sherlock doesn't get to shoot the walls, John makes sure of that and it only ever happens if he is bored and you, my dear cousin, are ever rarely bored.” She smiled at the grin he gave her, then her expression turned serious. “Before we talk about Bruce, I need you to know something's about Wade.” At Tony's frown she sighed. “Go easy on him, Tony. He's been through a lot but he's the best at his profession. I asked him, as a personal favor to me to look after you guys, especially the boys.”

_“What about Peter, we need someone that's going to do what he needs without getting in his way. Pete's big on his privacy these days.”_

“He's turning what seventeen soon? That could be it as well but he will work well with Peter, too. Wade's not an idiot, Tony and he won't allow anyone to treat him like he is.” Aveline frowned as she looked at the file in front of her. She lifted her head and waved good morning to John as he walked into the kitchen. “Breakfast is in the oven if you're hungry John, I believe Sherlock, Ford, and Clint are still in bed, Em and Sam went to check out a lead and a movie.”

John nodded, giving Aveline a small smile as he looked at the holoscreen in front of her. “Is that, a-are you talking to Tony Stark?” John moved closer as he looked at the image, surprise and curiosity running through him.

Aveline smiled, “Cousin, meet Dr. John Watson, former Captain of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. John meet my cousin, Tony Stark.”

Tony waved, a grin curving his lips as he looked at the man standing next to Aveline. _“Hello Dr. Watson, I'd say good evening but it's well into night here and I'm sure that since Avie said breakfast so I'm pretty sure it's early morning there. Either way, nice to meet you and hope to see you again? Right Ave, I mean we're gonna have to come out there anyway because if what Sam said is true and Stryker is in London...”_

John looked between the two, listening to them talk a bit more about Col. Stryker and his new experiments. “Right, well, nice to meet you Mr. Stark, Aveline, I'm going to go check on Ford and Sherlock.” He pulled to mugs down from the cupboard, filling one cup with tea and another with coffee. Pulling a couple of plates down as well, he filled one with some food and was reaching for a box filled with doughnuts when he heard a soft voice from behind him.

“Morn'n auntie, may I have something to eat?”

John turned to find Ford standing in the doorway, rubbing at his still closed eyes, his small mouth pursed in a pout. “Good morning, Ford.” He smiled as the small head snapped up to look at him, a smile curving his lips.

“Morn'n John!” Ford held his arms out to John, waiting for him to pick him up.

“If you'd like, I can get you something to eat, your aunt is on a phone call.” John smiled down at the child before picking him up. “You can share with me and your father, if you want.” John watched as Ford's face lit up with surprise, his ice blue gray eyes dancing with his pleasure.

“Poppa este încă aici? Putem mânca în pat, va primi noi să avem dulciuri mai întâi? pot să-l văd? John, în cazul în care este Poppa?!”(Poppa is still here? Can we eat in bed, will we get to have sweets first? can I see him? John, where is Poppa?!)

John frowned at Ford's rapid stream of words. Shaking his head in confusion, he chuckled. “Well, I can honestly say I didn't understand a single word of what you said but I'm sure it had to do with your father and me?” John looked up at Aveline then back to Ford. Before anyone could answer, however, a deep baritone spoke from behind him, causing a shiver to race down John's spine.

“He asked if we could eat in bed, if we were going to be eating sweets first and...” Sherlock broke off with a yawn as he reached for his son, pulling him gently out of John's arms. “And if he could see me.” Pressing a kiss against the soft curls on Ford's head, Sherlock smiled at the hug he received. “Good morning John, Aveline.” Sherlock nodded at her as he reached for a doughnut and handed it to Ford. “Do not tell your mother or she will refuse to leave you with me in the mornings.” He grinned at the eager nod Ford gave him. Turning to John, he brushed his hand over the one holding the coffee cup. “You're here early, John, thought you had a few errands to run?” Taking a closer look at the tired expression, Sherlock frowned. “Is everything alright?”

John took a deep breath, the heat racing through him at such a simple touch made him realize that he'd made the right decision coming to Baker Street first. Looking up at Sherlock, he smiled. “Yeah, just, uh, just getting breakfast ready. Ford mentioned he was hungry when he walked in.”

Sherlock nodded, scanning John's face, looking for clues as to what he was hiding from him. He realized what it was when John lifted his left hand and it was bare. “You told Mary you're sending her to her sister's.”

John nodded, knowing he'd have to explain the change of plans. Sighing, he glanced over at Aveline. “Let's go to the bedroom, Aveline is still on a call.”

Sherlock looked back over at the table, walking over to see the holoscreen in front of his friend. “Interesting, this is your cousin, Tony Stark? We didn't get a chance to speak the last time you were on the phone with him.”

Aveline nodded, the smile curving her lips widened as Tony and Sherlock both studied each other silently.

“Amazing, he is as you have described and yet there is some truth to what the newspapers say about him. Is he really married to Captain America?” Sherlock looked from Aveline back to the screen.

Tony chuckled. _“Married to him, sleep next to him, have two boys with him. Yep I even get to see him in both his military and Avengers uniforms and trust me when I say it's better each and every time.”_

Sherlock grinned at Tony, a soft chuckle rumbling through him. “I look forward to meeting you when you arrive, Mr. Stark. I am sure that the things we could discuss would be beneficial to us both.”

Aveline sighed, “How did you know he was coming here.” She rolled her eyes at the smug look Sherlock gave her.

“With the introduction of William Stryker, it would only make sense that you involve your cousin for what was done to his family.” Sherlock adjusted Ford, shifting him from one arm to the other. “I understand your need to protect your family.” He looked at Ford, who had just finished his doughnut. “I would do the same for mine.” He looked over at John, smiling at the blush that bloomed on his cheeks. “Excuse us, Aveline, I have a breakfast date. Come John, Ford and I require nourishment in order to start our day!” Sherlock leaned forward and whispered something to Ford, who giggled and turned to John.

“John, we require sprinkles as well!” Ford shouted with childish glee.

John let out a surprised laugh, watching as both father and son swept out of the kitchen and down the hallway towards Sherlock's bedroom. “The arrogant bastard, sometimes I wish I could just say no.”

“Yet you can't stop giving in.” Aveline said softly. “Go, take your food and drinks, I'll clean up in here.” Aveline pushed John gently from the room.

John smiled as he headed after Sherlock and Ford. He couldn't help the grin when he heard Tony talking from the kitchen.

_“Yeah, well, I'll admit, the curls are cute but you know my hair is better!”_

John chuckled as he shouldered his way into Sherlock's bedroom, pausing at the sight of father and son laying on the bed together. Stepping forward, he kicked the door closed and walked over to the bed. “Ok you two, breakfast and sweets.” He grinned at the delighted look on both their faces. “You have to eat before you get any sweets though.” John couldn't help but laugh out right at the matching pouts he received.

“John, I'll have you know that it is not necessary to bribe either of us with sweets.” Sherlock gave him his most haughtiest look as he tried not to stare at the plate of sweets in John's right hand.

John chuckled, “Maybe not Ford but you, I already know what it will take to get you to eat.” He grinned at Sherlock mischievously. He fixed a small plate for Ford and set it down on the bed in front of him, smiling when the toddler proceeded to eat with relish. “See, Ford was actually hungry where as you will nibble and pick.”

Sherlock frowned as he looked down at his son. “Are you sure he can eat everything, John, this isn't to much?” Sherlock studied the contents of Ford's plate. Looking from the eggs and bacon to the toast and hash browns. “It won't make him sick will it?”

“No, love, it's actually a good thing for him to have so much. That just means that he will be healthy and strong when he gets older and it teaches good dietary habits.” John grinned as he sat down with the extra plate next to Sherlock. “Here, you didn't eat much at dinner last night so you need to eat something this morning.”

“I am fine, John.” Sherlock took the plate from him despite his words. Ford was watching him intently and he didn't want to set a bad example for his son. Picking up his fork, he took a bite of the eggs then toast. Smiling at Ford, Sherlock watched as he went back to eating. Turning to John, he frowned. “Ready to tell me why you're sending Mary to her sister's early?”

John looked from Ford to Sherlock then back. Taking a deep breath, he looked back up at Sherlock, a frown curving his lips down. “It was something she said the other night. Or, well something I'd over heard, she was on the phone and talking about you and Ford.” John spoke softly, aware that Ford was in the room but hoping he was to occupied with eating to listen to their conversation. “She was also talking about what happened to Mr. Stark and his family. She was angry, Sherlock about them having kidnapped the children and she kept repeating she wouldn't harm, _the child_.” John glanced over at Ford again then back up at Sherlock. He could see him thinking, trying to figure out the who, what, and why of the phone call.

Sherlock looked down at Ford, brushing a hand gently over the dark curls. “She won't harm children, no matter who it is she refuses to harm a child.” He looked at John, “That still does not explain...”

“They wanted her to kill you or Mycroft, I'm not sure but from what she said it could be you. I couldn't take the chance...” John moved closer to Sherlock, reaching for his hand. “If it is you, I'd rather not have to shoot the mother of my child.” He laced his fingers with Sherlock's, holding on tightly.

_If there is a child, John._ Sherlock wanted to say something, to ask questions about the baby but he refrained. Looking down into John's face, he could see the strain he was under. “We will need to call Mycroft and Lestrade, they will need to know that the main focus seems to be on Ford.” Sherlock frowned as he thought about what John had just told him. “It wasn't a coincidence that Victor and Stryker were at the restaurant together. They were meant to be seen by us publicly, almost like a warning.” Sherlock drifted off as he listened to the conversation drifting in from the kitchen.

_“I went over all of it. Who ever helped infect the boys and take the serum from Steve knew how to do it. Some of the stuff on there was just...god Ave, I've never...i-it made Steve sick. I had to put him to bed half way through. What they did to Peter though, that was the worst.”_

_“Is Steven ok? He should not have had to see that nor endure that. I cannot imagine how he was feeling.”_

There was a pause, then Aveline started speaking again.

_“Stryker went missing around the time of their disappearance. Something Ross couldn't explain and yet...”_

_“And yet you saw him last night, yeah good ol' Thaddeus has a lot he's going to need to explain.”_

“Sherlock, Sherlock are you listening to me?!”

Sherlock jerked as he refocused on the blond man sitting in front of him. “Yes, John you were saying?” Sherlock needed to sit down and talk to Aveline, find out everything she knew about Stryker and what was his involvement with Victor.

“I said, we're going to need to figure out how to go about making sure everyone is safe. Mary's going to be out of the country for at least a few weeks. Your brother and Greg aren't really going to just up and leave their jobs either, so what do we do.” John looked at Sherlock then over to Ford. The small hand holding his spoon lay slack in his lap. He reached over Sherlock, picking up the plate in front of the dozing toddler and moved it to the small nightstand beside the bed. “You need to put Ford back to bed. He looks exhausted, Sherlock, what time did he go to sleep?” John studied the flushed face and rapidly moving chest. “Has he caught a cold, he looks as if he has a fever or might be congested.”

Sherlock frowned as he looked down at Ford. “He was asleep when we returned from dinner. Sam did not say anything about him feeling unwell.” Sherlock drifted off as he shifted Ford against his side. He looked down into the flushed face, frowning at the quick rise and fall of his chest, the pained expression on his face. “Something is not right, John. There was nothing wrong with Ford before he started eating.”

John moved across the bed, pushing back the hair on Ford's forehead. “He's warm to the tough but his skin is clammy.” John said softly. He pressed two fingers against Ford's neck, frowning in worry. “We need to call Emilie and find out if he's allergic to any medications. It could just be a cold or exhaustion but just in case...”

Sherlock nodded, reaching for his phone he dialed Emilie's number, frowning when it went to voicemail. He tried twice more with the same results before finally sending a text. The sound of voices from the front room reminded him that Aveline knew Ford's medical history almost as well as his mother. “Aveline, John, she would know what Ford is and is not allergic to.”

John nodded as he moved to leave the bed. Before leaving the room, he turned back to Sherlock, giving him a small smile. “Don't worry love, I'm sure everything will be just fine.”

 


	19. Chapter 19

“I am not remaining out here in the hallway, he is my son and I will not leave him in there alone! Now instead of bombarding me with useless information, tell me what is wrong with Ford.” Sherlock sneered, as he glared at the woman standing in front of him. John had decided that taking Ford to the ER would be safer than trying to diagnose him from home. Now, the doctor refused to tell him anything despite the fact that Sherlock was Ford's father.

“As I stated before Mr. Holmes, we can not release any information to you without his mother's consent. If you would just, please, call your fiance, we could get this all taken care of.” Dr. Avery Savant looked at Sherlock with kind, understanding coffee brown eyes. “Or if his god-mother...”

“Aveline has gone to find Emilie.” Sherlock stated softly, pulling on his curls in his agitation, he turned at the sound of running foot steps behind him. “Emilie, finally.” He sighed in relief as Emilie ran down the hall followed by Sam, Aveline and Clint conspicuously absent. He glanced back at the curly headed woman behind him then turned to greet Emilie. “Will you tell this person that I am allowed to see _my son_?!”

“Of course you are Sherlock why wouldn't you be?” Emilie glanced briefly behind him. “Now tell me what happened? How is Ford sick, he has never fallen ill before, where is he?” Emilie asked as she stopped in front of Sherlock. She looked between him and the silent woman behind him. Looking back to Sherlock, she waited, her eyes asking him to explain what was going on.

“He ate breakfast then, I-I do not know. We were talking to John and Ford was, h-he looked as if...” Sherlock blinked as a small hand squeezed his arm. “He looked to be sleepy but when John checked him, he was flushed and unable to breath properly. I've been trying to find out what is going on but the doctor refused to tell me anything until you arrived. I tried to explain...”

“Lady St. Cyr?”

Sherlock was cut off by the tall, sandy haired woman standing behind him. Frowning, Emilie looked away from the angry, pale man in front of her to study the doctor. “Yes, and you are?”

“Dr. Avery Savant, the residing pediatrician on duty, I'm attending your son this evening. If you would come with me, I can explain to you exactly what is going on.”

“Sherlock will be joining us, he is Ford's father and has a right to know as well what is going on with his son.”

Sherlock let out a small breath. “Thank you, Emilie.” Sherlock glared at the doctor. Watching as she turned and led them down a long hallway and into a silent room. After closing the door softly behind them, Sherlock looked around the room. He was surprised by the color, not the usual white as most hospital rooms and it held a hint of being _lived in_. “Whose suite does this belong to?” Sherlock asked softly, looking around until he could see the small figure on the bed. “Ford?” Stepping forward, Sherlock moved to the side of the bed, watching for any sign of movement from his son. When nothing happened, Sherlock lifted heavy eyes to look at the silent, pale woman in front of him.

“What is wrong with our son, Dr. Savant?” Emilie kept her eyes on Ford, watching the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

“Ford was brought in with a fever and a unique allergy to a bug bite, one that we do not yet know the identity of.”

“What do you mean you do not know? Are you or are you _not_ the best in your field, Dr. Savant?” Sherlock asked in a scathing tone. He leveled an ice blue glare at the woman standing at the foot of the bed. “Your incompetence is not needed right now. If you can not tell us what is wrong with our son...”

“Sherlock!”

Sherlock blinked at the sharp tone, turning to the door, his face heated at the shocked but angry look on John's face. “She is an _idiot_ , John. How do you expect us to believe she is the best in her field if...”

“You can't go around calling everyone an idiot because they don't immediately have the answers you want to the questions you asked! The medical sciences aren't always as easy as one would like them to be, you already know this.” John looked between Sherlock and Emilie, not surprised at the strain on both their faces. “Avery is the best in her field, I've worked alongside her numerous of times so Ford is in good hands.” John tried to keep his temper in check. He'd just gotten off the phone with Mary, who was understandably upset that they had to put off leaving as well as John not returning to the flat tonight. Taking a deep breath, John nodded to Avery, giving her a small smile, he walked over towards Sherlock. “You can't always bully and badger someone to do what you want them to do. Sometimes asking or being nice doesn't hurt.” He gave Sherlock a small grin, watching as he seemed to relax a bit.

Sherlock kept his gaze on Ford, knowing that John was right, he had been rude to the doctor, who was only trying to help. “My apologies, Dr. Savant, it is not my intention to be rude. I am simply worried about my son.” Sherlock said softly, looking over at John for some sign of approval. When he was given another smile, he let out a soft breath and turned to look at the silent doctor. “Tell us what we can do to help save our son.”

“ _Not_ listen to any doctor that hasn't spoken with our doctor.”

Sherlock looked up at the sardonic tone, not surprised to find Aveline's cousin, Tony Stark standing in the doorway. Turning to Emilie he was surprised to see her relief. “Emilie?” Sherlock asked softly in question. He knew of Tony's reputation but had never put much stock into what the paper's had to say.

“Is Bruce here with you, Tony? Please tell me there is something he can do to save my son.” Emilie looked from the brunette in the doorway to the smaller blond behind him. “Captain Rogers, it is a pleasure to see you again.”

Tony walked into the room, his gaze on the small form in the bed. “Bruce is already down in the labs with Aveline and the other scientist. If our hypothesis is correct, what's going on with Ford happened to Johnny as well. Just a little faster acting than I remember.” Tony walked over and gave Emilie a quick hug. “Sorry for barging in but Avie called and here I am.” Turning to Sherlock, Tony grinned. “Mr. Holmes...”

“Sherlock, please, Mr. Holmes would be my fat, nosy arsehole of a brother.” Sherlock cut in. “It is surprising that you and your...”

“Husband, hello, I'm Captain Steve Rogers-Stark.”

Sherlock shook the small hand held out to him, surprised by the strength in Steve's grip. “Captain Rogers.” Turning to the silently curious blond behind him, Sherlock pulled John forward gently. “This is Dr. John H. Watson, colleague and best friend.”

Tony and Steve both nodded at John, after Tony turned to Dr. Savant. “Doctor, if you want to join the rest of the scientist on the next floor, we can get Ford better sooner.”

Steve watched as Tony steered the doctor towards the door. “Tony?”

Tony looked up at Steve, glancing at the three people behind him. “J will let me know of any danger. Wade and Rhodey are with the boys, I'll be right back, honey.”

“Be careful.” Steve said softly. Smiling at Tony's wink and grin, turning back to Emilie, he sighed. “Johnny was infected almost the same way as Ford. The problem we ran into is that Johnny's immune system was already weak.”

“And it made it worse having to battle something his system didn't recognize.” John said softly. He looked up at Sherlock then to Emilie and Steve. “It would make sense, if it is a virus it would attack the weakest part of your system not the strongest. Forcing your system to work harder to protect itself.” John took a deep breath as he looked down at Ford then back up at Sherlock. “I'm going to head down to the labs, I want to know what I can do, if anything to help.”

Sherlock nodded, his eyes wide as he watched John. “You will let me know what ever you find?”

John grinned, “Of course, you and Emilie focus on Ford, I'll be back a little later.” He gave Sherlock a quick once over then turned to Emilie and Steve. “Em, he will get better.” He gave her a tired grin. “We're going to make sure of that. Captain Rogers...”

“Please, call me Steve.” Steve gave him a small smile.

Nodding, John returned the smile. “It is nice to meet you, truly wish it were under better circumstances but if there is time later, we should sit down and have a chat!” John rushed out as he headed towards the door. He tried to hide his wonder at the small blond standing next to Emilie. He'd grown up hearing the stories about America's super soldier, lost to the ice while saving his country.

Steve grinned, “When we have the time Dr. Watson, we should do that.”

John opened the door with a nod. “Call me John then and I will see you soon!” He gave Sherlock one last look before left the suite.

Sherlock watched as John closed the door behind him, wondering when would be the next time they saw each other. He turned back towards the blond man across from him, silently studying him with bright, baby blue eyes. “Captain Rogers?”

“Please, call me Steve.” Steve chuckled. “I was just...” Steve broke off, glancing at Emilie.

“It is ok, Steven, you may speak freely. I am aware of how John feels for Sherlock and Sherlock for John. We did not go into this situation with any type of misunderstandings on our part.” Emilie said, giving Steve a soft smile. She looked up at Sherlock, giving him a small nod then turned back to Ford.

“You were just wondering about the ring on John's left hand.” Sherlock said softly. “No, _we_ are not married, it is a long and tedious story and one I will gladly let John tell. We are however...close.” Sherlock finished, his voice had dropped as he looked away from the knowing gaze in front of him. He didn't want anyone's pity, they wouldn't understand the situation as it was.

“I understand.” Steve responded. “Tony and Bruce will make sure that Ford is better soon. If it's the same thing that made Johnny ill...”

“What was it, Steven? An insect or animal bite?” Emilie asked softly, running her fingers through Ford's curls she leaned down and pressed a kiss to his sweaty brow. “Ford has never been this sick before.”

“One of Ross' men injected him with some type of synthetic virus. It took Bruce and Tony a while to figure it out, especially with mine and Peter's disappearance. But from what I could understand, it was engineered to attack the immune system then breaking down each system after that, depending on which is the strongest.”

“Where is Thaddeus now, we need to have a _word_ with him, immediately.” Emilie said softly.

Sherlock silently agreed, looking down at the sweaty, flushed face of his son. “I need to find out what is going on in the labs. I have to do something to help my son.” Looking up at Emilie, Sherlock felt the desperate need to break something or hit someone. To turn them inside out, solve or reveal whatever secrets or lies they may be hiding then destroy them with his discoveries. He needed to do _something_ or he was afraid he would lose his mind at the thought of losing his son.

“You will return?”

Sherlock nodded, looking into ice green eyes, wide with fear. “I will not let anything happen to him, I swear it.” Sherlock said softly. He nodded once to Emile, then to Steve before leaving the room, his bellstaff flaring out behind him dramatically. Turning down the hallway, Sherlock took notice of the extra guards and the silence around him. He scanned the area, looking for his brother or Lestrade, knowing one of them would have added...

“Hello, William, I apologize for my sudden appearance and horrible timing but I had to avoid my brother.” A soft voice wheezed from the shadows. “If you, ummm, i-if it is not to much, could I see Ford before anything else happens to me? I would like to see for myself that nothing has happened to him.”

Turning at the sound of the soft voice behind him, Sherlock froze as he looked into the pain filled golden eyes of Danial Trevor.

 


	20. Chapter 20

“He's going to need a few extra surgeries and some time to rest. I don't know what he's been through but whatever it was, it wasn't good. Right now they have him on a mix of pain killers and antibiotics. If we can keep fluids in him then they will take him off the IV drip but that may not be for awhile now. As far as I can tell, he's lucky to even be alive.” John said with a soft sigh. He had been surprised, to say the least, when Sherlock had rushed into the ER carrying the unconscious man. The look in his eyes made John's stomach clench, fear and pain had been etched across Sherlock's face. How did he know the unconscious man, who was he, and what did he mean to Sherlock?

Sherlock looked at the brunette lying in the hospital bed. He had been surprised to see Danial, had been thrown off kilter when he'd asked to see Ford. “He wished to see Ford, said he wanted to see him before anything else happened to him.” Turning to the blond man next to him, Sherlock frowned. “They are connected, John, in some way and for some reason I am unable to find the common link!” Sherlock said in frustration. “It began with Ford, now Danial. Next it could be you, Mycroft, or Emilie and those are chances I am unwilling to take. I must figure out what it is that connects everyone involved.”

John frowned as he looked down at the chart in his hands. So the man in the room was Victor's younger brother. Holding in a sigh, John scanned the chart. “I'm not sure but it all started with Mycroft and Jim. Maybe we need to go back and figure out _why_ Jim went to Mycroft, there has to be more there than we're being told.”

Sherlock nodded, his gaze having returned to Danial. “Mr. Stark and his family were attacked by someone they knew, someone they could not trust but was close to them either way. Whom ever has gone after Ford and Danial, knows them, intimately, and they are a danger to them both.” Sherlock moved closer to the observation glass looking into Danial's room. “He looks to be in so much pain. What did they do to you, Danny?” Sherlock asked softly. “Will I be able to talk to him soon?” Sherlock needed answers and Danial seemed to have a few to the questions running around in his head.

“No, the medication he's on has him out and he's more than likely to be this way for a few more hours.” John sighed. He looked at the man in the room, surprised at how thin he looked. He could see the blonde roots growing out as light chestnut strands curled around his face. John looked closer at the sleeping man, frowning as a thought occurred to him. The longer he looked the more he realized why Victor wanted Ford so desperately. Why he was trying to take Ford from Sherlock and pass him off as Danial's son.

“They could pass for twins, if one were to see them from a distance. Almost makes you wonder if the rumors surrounding his parentage are true or not.”

John jerked back from the glass, his blue gaze lifting to meet the ice gray one watching him. He noticed that Sherlock was no longer standing next to him, guessing he had gone back upstairs to be with his son. “Tell me what it is you know, Mycroft and try not to lie, hmmm?” John glared at the tall ginger, taking in the tired droop of his shoulders, the downward tilt of his lips, and the strained, haunted look about his usually sharp eyes. “Because right now there are a lot of things not adding up and that never bodes well for anyone involved.”

“The situation, as it currently is, goes back to our grandparents. Holmes, St. Cyr, DavPremont, Stark, Banner, and Trevor. Our families were involved in something that would have never been discovered if one of their group had never made a mistake.” Mycroft looked at the sleeping man through the glass in front of him. “The sins of the father will be paid for by the blood of their children.” Mycroft said softly.

“Just what the bloody hell are you talking about, Mycroft. What could your grandparents have done that would warrant this much heartache and fear? What could they have been involved in that it would take one man losing his family and make another take his own life!” John turned and glared at Mycroft, looking at him for the first time since he'd spoken.

“Somethings, John, are better left in the dark.” Mycroft said distantly. “For the safety and sanity of those we hold most dear, there are some monsters best left undisturbed.” Mycroft looked down at John. He knew that things were going to get worse before they got better. If the information he had been given earlier was to be believed, they were all going to be put to the test before anyone found any semblance of peace. “Danial's arrival does not herald good tidings, his brother will come looking for him and that in turn puts Sherlock, Ford, and Emilie in danger.”

“Other than Victor, who else would want to harm them?” John was pretty sure he could guess why Emilie would have to take precautions, especially with her son but who else would want to hurt Ford, personally.

“His great grandfather would do anything possible to obtain Ford. Seeing as he is the last male heir to his title and Emilie refuses to relinquish her rights to her son...”

John frowned as understanding dawned. “That would be why they were in France. He did not know she would go there.” John said softly. “But what does Danial and the Moriarty brothers have to do with everything? Why are they so ups...”

“John, come quick! We just got a call telling us to be expecting bus accident victims and we'll need your help in the ER!”

John looked up at Annie Fisher as she raced past both Mycroft and himself. Frowning, he shook his head and turned back to Mycroft. “I'm not through talking to you but your nephew is on the fourth floor, you can't miss his room. Last time I was up there a huge iron suit was standing guard. It was incredible and scary at the same time.” John said in wonder, shaking his head, he turned at the sound of raised voices. “I have to go, tell Sherlock I'll be up as soon as we get this cleared!” John turned and trotted off down the hall, his mind shifting away from the conversation with Mycroft to the wounded people being carried in. He set to work helping those who needed the most attention, making sure to keep his focus on the tasks in front of him. He wasn't aware of the blond man and woman watching him from the other side of the room, both looking as if they had just barely made it off the bus before it exploded. When he was called back to surgery, he went, a grim look of determination on his face. Today, he was not going to lose anyone, today was the day he would save as many lives as he could.

Sherlock watched from the doors separating the ER and private rooms. John moved through the crowds of people with an ease born from years of confidence and experience. Looking around the crowded room, he frowned when he noticed Mary sitting next to a blond haired Magnussen. Both looked to have been caught in the accident but were currently watching John as he went about his duties. A shiver of apprehension moved up his spine as he watched the pair. When Magnussen stood up and headed towards a hallway off of the ER, Mary following soon after, Sherlock couldn't resist following as well. Glancing back down the hallway towards the elevators, Sherlock let out a soft huff, knowing that if anything happened to Ford while he was away, Emilie would let him know. Pushing through the double doors, Sherlock followed as silently as possible, frowning when he noticed they were headed towards Danial's room via a different route. Had Danial known they would come looking for him, that it wouldn't be Victor but Magnussen? When he reached the glass looking into Danial's room, he paused. It was empty, save for the still sleeping man himself. Turning, he was surprised to find Magnussen standing behind him, a gun in his hand as he stared at Sherlock in open curiosity.

“You simply can not stay out of things that do not involve you, can you my dear Sherlock?” Magnussen ran an opaque gaze over the pale man in front of him. “Well, it would seem that I have two choices, I can either shoot you both here or take you both with us once we leave.”

“Danial is not going anywhere, he is in no condition to be moved.” Sherlock said softly, he tried to keep his voice as neutral as possible. He didn't want Magnussen to know that he had Sherlock in a hard spot. He was unarmed and no one knew he had left the upper floors so they wouldn't be looking for him anytime soon. “And shooting me here would simply draw attention to yourself.”

“Not if _I_ have the silencer, less of a mess that way as well but since we have been asked _not_ to kill you, you will be coming with us.”

Sherlock turned, not surprised to find Mary standing behind him. “Why are you doing this, you have John, what more...”

Mary cut Sherlock off with a sharp hiss. “ _I do not have John, you do!_ From the day you came back he was yours, before you died he was yours, even now, at this very fucking moment, _he is yours!_ ” Mary glared at the tall, pale man in front of her. She could admit to the appeal that was Sherlock Holmes, could admit to understanding why John and Jim would be attracted to someone such as Sherlock. “I asked you to stay away, warned you that it would not be pretty for anyone involved but did you listen to me?”

Sherlock didn't care what happened to him, he did, however care what happened to his son and to John. “Why are you doing this, what has Danny done...”

“His grandfather and father owe a debt that has now become his and Victor's and if they refuse to pay then...” Magnussen drifted off as Sherlock seemed to process the information. When surprise and understanding dawned in the ice blue eyes, Magnussen gave him a small, predatory smile. “Ah, _now_ you are beginning to understand things. How none of this was coincidence but something long before any of you were thought of. I should tell you, Sherlock, that it has been most intriguing to watch everyone involved. I never thought I would be so entertained.”

“Glad to be so very helpful to you.” Came Sherlock's sarcastic reply. He flinched when he felt a sharp prick at the side of his neck. Turning to glare at Mary he felt the world tilt. “W-what did you give me?” He asked weakly. Sherlock struggled to keep his eyes open, stumbling back against the wall, he slid down, glaring at the two faces above him. “T-they will notice my absence. Em-Emilie and John will come looking...”

Mary knelt down in front of Sherlock. “That is exactly what we are counting on, Sherlock.”

The last thing he remembered was the blond woman glaring at him, a malicious grin on her face and the stoic man beside her. He briefly wondered who would miss him, who would notice first that Sherlock was no longer around then come looking for him. Who would care enough to try?

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies to you guys!! I could have sworn I posted 2 chapters last time but well, we see I did not :s Forgive me for the lapse, I do come bearing chapters!! So to you all I hope you enjoy & never forget that I love you guys & appreciate the support!!! YOU ALL ARE THE GREATEST!!!

John stepped off the elevator and headed down the hallway to Ford's room. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, checking for any missed calls or messages. Frowning, John looked up to see Steve and Tony standing in the hallway with a curly headed man dressed in dark, unobtrusive colors. He paused as bits and pieces of the conversation drifted towards him.

_“What do you mean you haven't spoken to either of them? They were supposed to have met us here thirty minutes ago.”_

_“They could be on their way here, Tony, we won't know until we find them.”_

_“What if they...”_

_“They will, just give them some time.”_

John was pretty sure the conversation was about the couple's two boys, so didn't want to interrupt but he had to find out if they'd seen Sherlock. “Excuse me gentleman, I, uh, I apologize for the interruption but, h-have any of you seen Sherlock?” He watched as Tony and Steve looked at each other then the silent brunette standing with them.

“Think I shouldn't be worried now? If _he's_ lost his boyfriend then _we've_ lost our boys!”

John watched as a flushed Tony Stark started pacing and muttering to himself, surprised at how familiar the sight was. “No, I haven't exactly, _lost_ him. I just...we were supposed to meet for lunch and I got tied up. I, uh, I'll ask Emilie, I'm sure she's heard from him.” John turned towards the door leading to Ford's room but was stopped by a soft voice behind him.

“Dr. Watson?”

John turned to the man behind Steve and Tony. “Yes?” He looked the shorter brunette over, he'd seen him before but couldn't remember where.

“I'm Dr. Bruce Banner, my apologies I went straight to the labs when we arrived and kind of didn't pay attention after that. I'm sure we met down there but, ummm, just in case...”

John grinned at the obviously shy man. “It's quite alright, Dr. Banner, you were busy and I was distracted. It's a pleasure to meet you, especially with everything that's going on.” John shook the hand proffered to him.

Bruce gave John a small smile. “I hope you find Sherlock, he had a few ideas that I was wanting to test out later.”

John nodded, “I'll tell him as soon as I find him. If you will excuse me?” When Bruce nodded, John turned and opened the door to Ford's room. He didn't miss the angry hiss from Tony or the soothing tones of his husband. _I see why they work so well together._ John thought silently. Walking into the room, he noticed two figures laying on the bed. Glancing around, John tried to look for some sign of Sherlock, where he might be or if he'd even been in the suite.

“Hello John, if you are looking for Sherlock he is not here.”

John started at the soft sound of Emilie's voice. “Has he not called you, he must have checked in on Ford?” John looked down in confusion. “We were supposed to have met for lunch but he's not answering any calls or text's.” John watched as Emilie shifted on the bed, blond hair glinting in the soft lights. His breath froze in his throat as tired, ice green eyes looked up at him. “How are you holding up, Em? Have you gotten any rest or something to eat at least?” John looked at the woman in front of him and frowned. She reminded him of Sherlock when he was on a week long case. The pale face, wild hair, tired eyes, and over calm voice. “You're no good to anyone if you've not done either of those.”

Emilie laughed softly. “He said you are a doctor first.” She sighed as she stretched out her tired muscles. “I am fine, thank you for asking John but what do you mean? Sherlock always answers you unless he's on a case.” Emilie looked at John, her thoughts going back to the last time she'd seen Sherlock. “I last saw him after he found Danial, he said he wanted to see him before meeting you.”

“I got caught up in the emergency room, bus accident came in.” John said absently. Sherlock would have told him if he'd gotten called out on a case. Especially with Ford sick and in the hospital. “Maybe he called Mycroft or Greg, if he were called out on a case, one of them would know.” John sent off a message to both men, surprised when the text to Mycroft sounded from behind him.

“I had been hoping you could answer that question for me as well, Dr. Watson. I have been trying to reach my brother for the past hour with no luck.”

John turned, surprised to find Mycroft standing behind him. Before he could answer, his phone chimed with a message from Greg.

_**Haven't seen him, mate. Thought he was still at the hospital with Em and Ford.** _

“Greg hasn't seen him either.” John said softly. He glanced up at Mycroft then turned to Emilie. “The last time I saw him we were standing in front of Danial's room. He wanted to talk to him, something about what happened to him?” John frowned, he knew Sherlock could go off at times without telling him but Mycroft was usually able to find out something.

“Something must have happened to him. He wouldn't leave willingly knowing Ford is still here.” Emilie moved off of the bed and stood up, reaching for a bag sitting on the floor. “We will need to find out the last place he was seen, we must find him.” She pulled out a small laptop and opened it. Looking up at Mycroft, she looked at him. “Give me the codes, Mycroft, to the locator in his watch.”

John watched as Mycroft stiffened, his face turning into an unreadable mask. “What exactly does she mean, Mycroft?” He knew the answer, was pretty sure that once it was said out loud he wouldn't like it anymore than he did now.

“To protect my brother and nephew, we had certain...precautions...put in place.” Mycroft looked at John then Emilie. “You know why I can not give you the codes, your mind holds more than just your memories as we both know. If you were to come to harm...”

“Do not fucking bullshit me, Mycroft. Stop trying to run the country and give me the damn codes to find Sherlock.” Emilie hissed. She watched as Mycroft struggled with his decision. “For once in your life, think like his _brother_ and not the fucking _British Government_!” Emilie took a deep breath as she tried to reign in her temper. “Remember how it had felt to lose Ford in Brazil? This is just like that except here, here they are supposed to be at home and safe! Someone is attacking us on our own soil, Mycroft and now, now your nephew and brother...”

“01060331.” Mycroft said softly. “The second code is 04160922.”

John stared at Mycroft in surprise and confusion as he repeated the codes in his head. “That's our birthday's, mine and Sherlock's, for the first set but the second...” John started softly. “I don't know the second set...”

“It would be both mine and Ford's, he is aware of this?” Emilie asked softly.

“It was he who asked for it to be done. I was not in agreement but after Serbia...” Mycroft stopped abruptly at the sound of angry voices in the hallway. Turning to Emilie, he gave her a questioning look.

“I wonder what the is issue now?” John walked towards the door, frowning as the voices became louder. He looked from Emilie to Mycroft, moving to a position between the bed and door. He waited as the handle turned and the door was pushed open. Tensing, John frowned as the voices remained raised as their owners walked into the room.

“Tony, _calm down_ , Ford is still sick and I'm pretty sure Emilie would appreciate it if you didn't talk so loud.” Steve said with a soft huff of irritation. “I told you they were fine and that Wade had things under control.”

“Yeah, well, more like he wants to have Peter under his control.” Tony muttered darkly. “What, I've seen how he looks at Pete, do not...” He blinked when John cleared his throat, flushing as he looked around the room.

Steve sighed, giving everyone an apologetic smile. “Sorry, with everything going on, we're kind of on edge with the boys away from us.”

“It is understandable, Steve no need to apologize.” Emilie looked between the couple. “Where is Bruce, has he left with Aveline and Clint?”

“No, I, ummm, I-I was hoping they were both here.”

Emilie looked up at the figure in the doorway. “I have not seen either since I arrived. Aveline was supposed to have been waiting for you when you arrived.” Confusion filled her eyes as she looked from Bruce to John. “She would not leave...” Emilie was interrupted by a soft beeping from her laptop. “Sherlock has been located.”

John moved to the side of the bed, eyes glued to the laptop in front of him. “Where is he, is he close by?”

“He's no where near us, how is this possible? Sherlock would not have left without a good reason.” Emilie punched in a series of numbers, watching as they scrolled across the screen. “His vitals show he's unresponsive but alive, which means he's been drugged or knocked out.”

“Is that Junior? Aveline told me she was going to field test him but I didn't think...” Tony looked over Emilie and John's shoulder. “There's a problem with this algorithm though. Look at this section here, is that really all water or is there something else there?” Tony pointed to a blue formation at the bottom of the screen. Pulling out his phone, he flipped through a series of screens. “Hey J, link us up with Junior and tell me what's going on.”

_“Right away, Sir.”_

“Tony, maybe we should let Emilie...” Steve started softly, a look of concern in his baby blue eyes.

Tony grinned as he looked over at his husband. “Emilie loves having me here, if for no other reason than the toys I have.”

Emilie nodded, her gaze fixed on a flashing yellow dot. “It helps keep track of things as well as give us some form of entertainment.” She looked up at John. “Are you feeling up to a ride, John?”

John nodded, confused and irritated with the conversation around him. He watched as Tony moved back from them, walking over towards Steve. He felt a small curl of jealousy twisting his stomach, watching covertly as Tony stopped in front of Steve, giving him a soft look. When Tony leaned forward to give Steve a kiss, John looked away. Hating that he couldn't do that with Sherlock, that because of his desire to do the right thing he may very well have lost that chance.

“Dr. Watson, are you, ummm, alright? You look upset about something?”

John looked up to see Bruce watching him, he looked down at the bottle in his hand, unaware of having picked it up and crushing it. “No, I'm not alright. I've not bloody been alright since the day this whole mess started.” He frowned at the look on Bruce's face and sighed. “My apologies, I shouldn't be venting to a complete stranger.”

“It's ok, considering I asked if you were ok.” Bruce gave him a small quirk of his lips.

John gave a him a small grin. “How are you holding up, Dr. Banner, I am sure none of this is easy for you or your friends.”

Bruce let out a soft sigh, glancing down at his feet then back up at John. “Well, considering my girlfriend and boyfriend seem to be missing and my best friend keeps insisting that I lose it in order to find them, I'd say I'm doing ok.” Bruce gave John a tired smile as he glanced over at Emilie and Mycroft, frowning at their soft exchange. “I don't trust that conversation.”

John looked over at the pair standing in the corner. He watched as Emilie gave an angry shake of her head, turning away from Mycroft. “They are arguing over who should stay with Ford and who should go after Sherlock.”

“Emilie won't stay, she'll take Ford with her if she has to but she doesn't trust many with her son, Mycroft being one. She doesn't even trust him to protect his own brother.”

John looked at Bruce in surprise. “You know about Ford and Emilie then?” He studied the shy man standing in front of him. Who would think that this quiet, unobtrusive scientist could turn into a huge, green monster filled with mindless rage? John blinked as he watched Bruce studying him as well. He grinned, “Sorry, years of living with Sherlock. I tend to observe others a lot more now.”

Bruce nodded in understanding. “Emilie is a, ummm, friend of Aveline's and it's fine. I've had to learn to asses a threat more than once myself.”

John could see the hardened man behind the glasses, the dark eyes held a wealth of knowledge and understanding but a dark rage swam there as well. _The evil within all men._ John thought sardonically. He jerked when Emilie's voice rang out with a sharp no. Turning, he was surprised to see her standing directly in front of Mycroft, her hands on her hips in challenge.

“You have no say in this, Emilie. Sherlock is my respon...” Mycroft started softly.

“He and Ford are _my_ responsibility. They belong to the gypsy nation and we protect our own. Either you will remain here or I will tie you to the fucking chair!” Emilie glared at the tall, pale man in front of her. She knew it was a difficult decision for him, could see the struggle he was going through and sighed. “I can not trust him with someone who he is not familiar with. Strangers are a threat to us now, Mycroft. Let me and John go after Sherlock, Ford will need you here when he wakes up.” Emilie saw when his decision was made, watched as his protective side surfaced.

“You will bring him back alive?” Mycroft asked softly. He knew it was out of character for him to show emotion but felt he was entitled where his family was concerned. “Em...”

“Yes or die trying. Just promise me you will watch after my son.” Her gaze moved over the small sheet clad form on the bed. “I have nothing left without him.”

“I will protect him with my life.” Mycroft said softly.

“Is it really _that_ serious that you expect to _die_? I mean, personally I know that if I have a job to do I do it then go party. Grab a few drinks, pick up a few ladi...”

“I assume you were called in by the General?” Emilie spoke in a cold voice cutting off the sardonic tenor behind her.

“Yes ma'am, had to bring both Peter and Johnny here first though. She's in the ER right now, by the way, they found her car on the side of the road. Someone tried to kill her and Agent Barton.”

John saw the man beside him stiffen, a frown curving his lips down. “Dr. Banner, are you alright?”

“How long has she been here, Wade?” Bruce kept his dark gaze on the man standing in the doorway as he gave John a small nod.

John felt his eyes widen as he looked at the man in front of him. He wore a dark gray hoody, the hood pulled up over his head, partially obscuring his face. He could see sharp blue eyes looking back at him and a shiver raced down his spine. It wasn't until he shifted did he see the two teenagers standing behind him.

“Dad! Pop!”

“Hey guys, not so loud, Ford still hasn't woken up.” Steve shushed his son's, a grin on his lips as they both hugged him.

“You two could wake the dead.” Tony chuckled as he walked over to the trio. He nodded to Bruce as he whispered something on his way out. He turned back to the others, smile already in place.

“Sorry, sorry we didn't mean to interrupt but Avie is here and we couldn't find Bruce!” The brunette exclaimed softly.

John looked from the brunette to the blond. _Peter and Johnathon Stark, these are Steve and Tony's sons._ John looked back at the bed beside him, running a gentle hand over dark chestnut curls. _He is my son as well._ “Mycroft, you make sure to keep track of Sherlock and don't let Ford out of your sight.” He looked up at the tall ginger. “Call Greg too, find out where he is. If they've kidnapped Sherlock and Clint, Greg could be next. Emilie's right, they are attacking us on our own soil, in our homes. Taking everything from us and now Sherlock is missing, again.” John turned from the bed, glancing at Emilie. “Let's go, we need to get to him and back here as fast as possible.”

“About time, I thought you were about to give a speech or cry or something.”

“Wilson, if you don't...” Tony started with a growl.

“Wade, please, shut up before you get your ass kicked.”

John looked over at the soft voice, surprised at the note of steel in the tone. He watched as the brunette next to Steve frowned at the hooded man. Shaking his head, he let out a rough sound. “Right, well, I'm not to sure who you are and we'll worry with that later. My main concern is finding Sherlock and possibly Clint and how best to get them back alive.” John watched as Emilie looked at the laptop. “Em, what is it?”

“It says he's near Hyde Park, which is on the other side of the city. Why would he go there, are they not having their fall festival? Sherlock would do everything possible to avoid the crowds.” Emilie studied the screen closer.

John frowned, he jerked when his phone vibrated with an alert. Pulling it out he bit back a harsh sound.

_**Fever hot you are not, more like winter cold if I may be so bold. He has his clothes and nothing else, so you better hurry before he burns to death.** _

He looked up at Emilie and Mycroft. “Whoever has him says that we are to cold and if we do not hurry, Sherlock will burn to death.” What could they possibly mean by burn to death? It was to cold out, unless... “What all do they have at the fall festival.”

Emile frowned, “They have rides, singing, face painting, cookouts, and food booths, what else is there that they could...”

“The bonfires...They have bonfires to keep everyone warm and for those who want to roast marshmallows or hot dogs.” John said softly. “They are set up all around the park.” John's head jerked up as it hit him. “The wood is hollow beneath, they would keep some space for it to burn all the way around.”

“Come, John, we must go before something else happens.”

John watched as a blond head bent over Ford and Emilie whispered something softly to him. Taking a deep breath, John nodded at Mycroft, who was distracted by his phone but returned the gesture. “Em?” John called softly.

Emilie straightened, her ice green gaze on her son. “I am ready.” Turning to Tony, she was surprised to see Bruce, Peter, and Johnny were gone. Leaving Wade, Tony, and Steve. “Wilson, you are staying here?”

“Yep, gotta babysit the kiddos for the boss. I'll check on her though, keep you posted?” Wade asked lightly.

“Make sure no harm comes to her, the baby, or my son. John and I will be back as soon as we can.” Emilie picked up a small backpack and slid her arms through the straps.

“Gotcha, oh and uh, if you get a chance you may want to make sure they don't have Agent Barton? The boss and Dr. Banner will be real peeved if something happened to him and we didn't know.” Wade leaned against the door frame, his posture idolent but his gaze sharp.

John shook his head, “We'll keep an eye out for him, right now we need to find Sherlock.” He looked down at his phone as a second message came through. “They say he will be the last to burn and we will watch it knowing there is nothing we can do to save him.”

“Let's go, Mycroft...”

Mycroft looked up at Emilie, a distracted frown curved his lips down. “I can not seem to reach Gregory.”

John looked up in surprise. “I was just talking to him not ten minutes ago!” His phone vibrated again, making him growl in frustration. “Bloody hell! We do not have time for...”

_**One is night and one is day. We have both either way. Now all you will have to do, is pick who wins and who will lose.** _

“They have Sherlock and someone else.” John whispered, he looked up at Emilie. “We need to get to the park before they start lighting the bonfires.”

“I'll go with you, Clint's one of ours and I'm not going to stay behind not knowing what's going on, especially if you don't know who it is they have now.”

John looked up to see Tony standing in the doorway, the red and gold suite already wrapping around him. He gave Tony a short nod then followed Emilie out the door and to the elevator. “How long do you think we have before they start the nights festivities?”

“Usually it doesn't start until sunset but with the temperatures dropping they may start them earlier. There will be children in attendance so they are going to want to keep everyone warm.” Emilie's expression turned thoughtful as they rode the elevator down to the garage. “Hyde park is not a small place to cover, we will need to narrow down the exact area as soon as possible. If Mycroft can not reach Greg...”

“We may be on our own with this one.” John sighed, he straightened as the elevator stopped in the garage. “Hopefully Mr. Stark can offer some help as well. He seems determined to find Clint.”

“Please, call me Tony or Iron Man or the husband of Captain America if it will make you feel better but do _not_ call me Mr. Stark. That man is dead, has been for years.”

John looked up to find the Iron Man suit standing in front of them. “My apologies Mr...I-I mean Tony.” John gave him a crooked grin as he followed Emilie to her bike. “Do you think we'll be able to find everyone tonight?”

Tony nodded, his gaze going over the information flashing before him. “If what Junior is sharing with Jarvis is right, we should be able to.”

Emilie frowned, adjusting her pack as she straddled the bike, she looked back at John. “Are you sure you're up for this ride? I am no where near as cautious a driver as most would think.”

John grinned as he climbed onto the back of the bike. “I've been in the back of a fast moving jeep across the worst terrain ever known to man. This can be no worse.” John looked to his left to see Steve standing by the elevator's, he was pale but smiled stiffly.

“I'll catch up to you guys, there's something I need to handle first.” Tony walked away, the suit clunking loudly in the small garage.

“Let's go, we need to get to Sherlock as fast as possible.” John looked at Emilie, his tone urgent. He had seen the look shared between Steve and Tony, making his need to find Sherlock escalate.

Emilie nodded, turning to hand him an earpiece. “This will link you up with Junior, if we get separated or something happens here at the hospital...”

John took the earpiece, frowning at how well it fit. “It's almost as if I'm not wearing it.”

Emilie smiled. “That is the point.” She started the bike, letting it warm up before putting it in reverse and backing out of the parking space. She put the bike in gear, nodding when John leaned forward, his arms going around her waist.

“I'm sorry if I'm out of line!” John had to raise his voice to be heard over the purr of the bike engine. He knew it could be seen as inappropriate for them to be in such a compromising position. However, seeing as how it was to save Sherlock, John was pretty sure it would be over looked.

Emilie laughed, a light sound despite how she felt. “It is fine John, hang on!”

John nodded as they left the garage and merged with traffic. He breathed a small sigh of relief when they were finally able to move faster. He held on tight to Emilie as she weaved through the congestion that made up London night life. “If we get stuck in this we'll never make it to the park!”

_“That's why you have me along for the ride, as long as someone can see we are doing great.”_

John grinned as he looked up, waving when he spotted the Iron Man suit. “Is there a faster route to the park?”

_“If Emilie is willing to take ally way's, yes.”_

John felt the small nod from Emilie then tightened his arms as she moved through traffic to the nearest alley. “This shouldn't be so difficult! The roads to the park are never this busy at night!”

“It's the celebration! They will be doing the festivities for the duration of the holidays!” Emilie shouted back in reply.

John nodded, his gaze on the dark path in front of them. He hoped they would make it in time, prayed that nothing happened to take Sherlock away from him, again.

 


	22. Chapter 22

_Poppa?”_

_Sherlock blinked as he heard the soft whisper. He was in his mind palace but something was wrong...off in a way that it never should be. Looking around at the dimly lit area, Sherlock turned at the sound of his son's voice._

_“Poppa, ajută-mă ...”_ _(Poppa, help me...)_

_“Ford?” Sherlock squinted as he looked through the darkness in front of him. Moving forward cautiously, Sherlock looked into the inky blackness, calling out to his son again. “Ford, Unde ești?”_

_“Poppa, Unde ești? Mi-ai promis niciodată să mă părăsi!”_ _(Poppa, where are you? You promised to never leave me!)_

_Sherlock flinched as the lights suddenly lit up the hallway, blinking in surprise, Sherlock scanned the area again looking for Ford. “Ford, răspunde-mi, Unde esti?”_ _(Ford, answer me, where are you?)_ _The sound of a muffled scream forced his tense muscles into action. He ran down the hallway, fear coursing through his veins. He was supposed to be safe here, no one and nothing was supposed to be able..._

_He stopped when two figures appeared before him, one taller than the other. Walking closer, Sherlock could feel his heart racing as their faces slowly came into focus. “Ford?” He stopped when that voice reached his ear's. The same voice that had haunted his dreams for months, the voice that even now, had the power to make his stomach churn and his heart race._

_“Dia duit, mo daor, álainn Sherlock. Tá tú Bealtaine An bhfuil Caillte?”_ _(Hello, my dear, beautiful Sherlock.Have you missed me?)_

Sherlock was jerked awake by the sound of that maniacal laugh echoing around him. He sucked in a harsh breath as he tried to keep from alerting anyone to his current state. It did not, however, go as planned.

“Do you remember, my dear Sherlock, precisely _where_ you were the night before _my_ wedding?” A cruel laugh echoed around the small space as a gloved hand brushed over his cheek. “I do, I remember where I was, who I was with, and what I did. Then, after I married him I found out about where _he was_ , what _he'd done_ , and _who he'd done it with!_ ” The voice cracked around them like a whip. “Do you know how that made me _feel?_ To know that after all this time he _still_ could not walk away from you? You, Sherlock Holmes, are his greatest weakness, his heart, so to speak, is in _your hands_. Especially after having given him something that he will never be able to walk away from, something I can never, _ever_ give him.”

Sherlock blinked in groggy confusion at the angry voice. He tried to focus his gaze on the shadow in front of him but his eyes refused to cooperate. He pulled back with a small whimper of fear as the unknown person moved closer. His heart racing as he fought to keep calm and breath slow and deep. “Who...” He rasped hoarsely, only to be interrupted by a harsh sound.

“Are you afraid of me _now_ , Sherlock? After all the times I warned you away from him you _still_ could not leave him alone!” The angry voice hissed, the anger and rage could be heard in every word.

Sherlock flinched back, his back hitting something rough and solid. Raising his hands up to protect his face, he realized that they, along with his legs, were tied together. Shaking his head to clear away the fog, his vision slowly started to return. Sherlock started in surprise when his eyes finally focused on the angry face in front of him. “M-mary?” He asked in confusion. He couldn't remember how he had gotten tied up or why he would be looking into the face of an angry Mary Watson. “Where...where am I, what is going on?” He struggled with the lapse in memory, racing through his mind palace to find the missing pieces.

Mary gave a sharp laugh, glaring at the dark haired man in front of her. “He wants to send me away and move back in to Baker Street. Told me it was for the protection of me and the baby but I know the truth.” She hissed, her angry blue gaze on Sherlock. She leaned down into his face, continuing with her angry tirade. “He wants to make sure you do not fall for your pretty little fiancee. The same fiancee, who conveniently popped up shortly after he and I were married, who just so happens to be the biological mother of _your_ only son!”

Sherlock stiffened, John would not have told Mary about Ford's paternity. He was certain of it but if not John then who? Who would let slip Ford's true parentage? He remained silent as he watched the irate woman in front of him. He wasn't sure who was with her and just how much danger he truly was in. Looking around, Sherlock tried to find anything that would let him know where he was.

“Didn't think I knew, hmmm? You can _look_ at him and know that he is your son, from those curls to that face.” Mary spat out. “John is careful not to speak of him, of course, but I can tell he adores him. Just from the few time he _has_ mentioned _Lord Sherringford St. Cyr-Holmes._ ” Mary stepped back from Sherlock, taking a deep breath she tried to regain her earlier calm. She gave Sherlock an evil smirk as she ran a hand over her slightly swollen stomach. “Wait, I guess there _is_ something I can give him that you can not. His _own_ child to love and cherish. _”_

She glared at Sherlock, her eyes blazing with an emotion he'd never seen before. “Why are you doing this, you have John why are you after my son?” Sherlock desperately tried to put all the pieces in place, to figure out what Mary gained from her involvement with Moran and Magnussen, but his head was still foggy from whatever they drugged him with earlier.

“You know, Jim and Andy mean a great deal to me. I met them when I was right at death's door. They gave me a reason to live after that, made sure I was taken care of and then your _brother_ came along and Jim just could _not_ get enough of hearing about you. The younger brother of the _Ice Man.”_ Mary let out a cruel laugh. “He called you _The Virgin_ , said it fit you better than genius.” Mary scanned Sherlock with a critical eye. “I can see the appeal, although Jim...”

“Now, now, now, we shall not speak ill of the dead, Mrs. Watson.” Magnussen walked out of the shadows, a small smile on his lips. “Hello, Sherlock, it is rather pleasing to see you awake again. I find that you have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.” He knelt in front of Sherlock, running a finger along the side of his jaw. “So very unique.” He whispered. Shaking his head slightly, Magnussen stood up, smile still on his face. “Have you not figured out what it is we want, Sherlock?”

“You want my son.” Sherlock watched as Magnussen seemed to think about his words. He followed the balding blond as he paced from one side of the room to the other. Sherlock went over everything he knew so far, desperately trying to find what he'd missed. Was there something Mycroft had not told them or had he ignored it while blindly searching for answers where there were only more questions? Watching the pair in front of him, he couldn't help but wonder again how Mary was involved. What did she gain other than Sherlock out of the way? She had John, what more could she want from him?

“You still have not figured it out yet, have you?”

Sherlock looked up at Magnussen, his lips curving down in a frown as he remained silent. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing that he was at a loss, again, where someone named Moriarty was concerned. He held Magnussen's gaze until the other looked away. There was something else missing, something that he was _supposed_ to know but some how did not. Looking over at Mary, he studied the silently gloating woman. Giving her a cursory glance, Sherlock noticed the wedding band on her finger was not the same one she married John with. “When is the baby due again, Mary? I'm sure John would like to know so he does not have to deliver _his_ child in jail.” Her reaction was all the answer Sherlock needed to confirm his prior deductions.

Mary glared at Sherlock, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. “You may want to sit there and be silent, Sherlock. You are in no position to ask me any questions concerning anything.”

Sherlock held her angry gaze, refusing to flinch as he felt another sharp prick, this time in his arm. Looking down, he frowned at the small red dot where he had been injected. “Another drugging agent?”

“We will need you to remain as still and silent for as long as possible. By now your beautiful fiancee and tenacious former flatmate have noticed your absence and will start their search for you.” Magnussen said softly. “Oh, Sherlock you do not know just how very much I wish things could be different between us. However, unfortunate circumstances forced us to meet in such a vulgar manner.” Giving Sherlock a thoughtful once over, Magnussen smiled. “I shall see you again, very soon, Sherlock Holmes.”

He jerked as he felt someone lift him up, helping him stand on shaky legs. Stumbling as he was half dragged outside, Sherlock felt his thoughts start to drift. He looked around, trying to pick out anything of significance and frowned when all he saw were trees and grass, the setting sun lighting up the sky as it slowly made its descent. He tumbled into the back of a dark van, groaning as he landed on his bound arms in an awkward heap. Glaring up at the smiling blond man, Sherlock slowly backed away from Sebastian, making sure to keep as much distance between them as possible. He fought to keep his eyes open, wishing desperately for some way to contact John, Emilie, or Mycroft.

He jerked when the doors were slammed shut, leaving him alone in darkness with nothing to occupy his mind but his thoughts. Leaning his head against the wall of the van, Sherlock sighed as his eyes slowly closed. He let his mind drift back to John's shouted confession, the one that changed everything for them both.

_“I won't lose you again, Sherlock, not this time, we either do this together or not at all!” John watched as Sherlock prowled from one side of the room to the other. He didn't flinch when ice blue eyes were turned on him, anger blazing in their bright depths._

_“That is not your call to make John, not when it comes to my son.” Sherlock saw the small flinch John tried to withhold, felt a twinge of something close to regret or guilt for his words but it was, however, more or less the truth._

_“I will make it if you force me to.” John felt his eyes narrow on Sherlock as he tried to hold on to his temper. He knew Sherlock was trying to push him away, to keep him at arms length but John wasn't having it, not this time._

_Sherlock felt his gaze narrow at John's tone. He ever rarely used that tone with Sherlock and he didn't like the effect it had on him. He bared his teeth at John, showing as much of his displeasure as possible.“Force you to, John? There is no negotiating on this matter, Ford is my son...”_

_John threw his hands up in angry exasperation. “_ OUR _son, Sherlock not just yours! He's just as much a part of my family, my life as you are so he's our son! Are you listening to me?! I won't stand here and watch either you or Emilie go off trying to kill a maniac who might kill you both, ultimately leaving_ us _here alone!” John stood at military parade rest. His back ramrod stiff and his arms folded behind him. His face was tight with tension as Sherlock stopped in front of him._

_Sherlock looked at John in shocked surprise. He never knew that John would care about Ford as his own. Had never thought that John would come to think of them as a true family. Staring at him, Sherlock couldn't help thinking it would be next to impossible for him to love John anymore than he did right now.“John...”_

_“I don't want to hear it, not right now. Damnit, I love you Sherlock, I thought a part of me died when you left the first time. Do you know what it will do to me to lose you and still have Ford? To look into that face and see you? Can you imagine the pain he would feel if he lost both of his parents?” John stepped back from Sherlock, avoiding the pale, slim hand extended towards him. “You have no idea what I went through, Sherlock. The hell I went through trying to figure out if maybe I hadn't done enough by you. Don't do that to Ford, you and Emilie, you're both being selfish if you leave us behind in this.”_

_Sherlock blinked in surprise, his mouth opening and closing as he stared at the angry man before him. “Our son, John?” His stomach fluttered at the look on John's face, the suddenly shy smile curving his lips._

_“Well, I mean, i-if that's ok, yeah?” He let out a soft sigh. “I can not be angry with you for being a father. Ford was born before we ever got involved but I wish you could have trusted me enough to tell me about him. Now that I know, I still love you, you crazy berk and that in turn makes Ford my son.” John looked up at Sherlock, aware that there were a number of things separating them but knowing some how they would make it through. “You both are my responsibility and I take that very seriously. Don't make me put my foot down, Sherlock.”_

_“Very well, John, for the safety of everyone involved I will agree.” Sherlock nodded once, fighting to hide the pleasure he felt at John's words. “You will stay the night then?” He shouldn't hope for more,_ want _more, yet with John it was next to impossible. When John agreed, Sherlock let out a soft sigh, moving towards his favorite seat, he listened to John tell him about his day._

“Wake your skinny ass up, Holmes! What do you think this is, a bed and breakfast?”

Sherlock started as he was jerked roughly to his feet. Blinking, he struggled to regain his bearings. He could hear the sounds of people and music but couldn't figure out where exactly they were. He resisted the urge to pull away from the hands holding him in place, his head turning to look at the person next to him.

“Don't do anything to draw attention to us you skinny fucker or I swear the consequences will not be to your liking.”

Sherlock frowned, looking at the hazy form of Sebastian Moran. Turning his head slowly, he tried to figure out where they were and just how far away was back up.

“By the time they find you we will have what we want and be to far away for you to even do anything about it.” Sebastian glared at Sherlock as he jerked him roughly to his feet, giving him a tight grin.

Sherlock glared at the grinning man next to him, stumbling as he tried to keep up. He looked around again, eyes widening as he recognized where he was. “The holiday festival?” They were at Hyde Park, such a public place for...

Sebastian laughed, his hold tightening around Sherlock's arm. “Such a public place for a simple act.” He glared down at the man next to him, his face turning dark and twisted. “You killed Jimmy you scrawny bastard. I loved him just as you love Johnny boy. He meant more to me than any other person on this fucking planet and you, you skinny fucker, took him from me!” Sebastian snarled as he tightened his grip on Sherlock's arm, smiling cruelly at his sharp hiss of pain. “Andy was heartbroken, inconsolable when he found out.” Sebastian gave Sherlock's arm another hard twist for emphasis. “But don't worry, Andy plans to even the score real soon, with all of you, all of you killed Jimmy and we will see you all burn for it!”

Sherlock shrank back from the snarling man, surprise and fear racing through him. His thoughts turned to his son and John, where were they, were they safe, had Ford woken up yet? He was jerked from his thoughts as Sebastian shoved him forward, stumbling as he tried to get his feet back under him. Glaring at Sebastian, Sherlock couldn't help but think that he was as much a soldier as John but nothing like John. He straightened his shoulders, standing to his full height and looked Sebastian in the eyes. “You underestimate anyone of us if you believe you can use scare tactics to get us to bend to your will.”

Sebastian let out a loud bark of laughter, ignoring the curious stares of the people around them. “Scare tactics? Is that what you think this is, Holmes?” Sebastian jerked Sherlock closer to him. “Scare tactics are for amateurs and fools. We are _none_ of those, Sherlock Holmes. Andy is just as smart if not smarter than you so do not gloat to soon.” Sebastian stepped away from Sherlock, grinning at something behind him.

Sherlock didn't turn around, certain that there was someone there with another needle and more drugs. He stiffened at the sharp prick against his neck but showed no other signs of his discomfort. He glared at Sebastian as he was jerked around and shoved forward. He wasn't sure what he'd been given or if what he'd been given was even safe but this time it was acting faster. Stumbling, Sherlock could make out the hazy shapes of the people around them. Holding back the fear swirling in his stomach, he hoped that where ever John and Ford where, they were safe and unharmed.

 


	23. Chapter 23

“How in the hell are we supposed to find him with all of the these people? He could be anywhere and we not even see him.” John frowned. He scanned the crowd around them with a critical eye. Glancing down at the small hand held he'd taken from Emilie, he scanned the screen. “How are we...”

“Sherlock's locator is the bright blue light, if he is moving, you will see it.” Emilie looked around at the crowds. “Have you received any further texts?”

John looked confused until his phone chimed with an alert. “It would appear we have one now.”

_**Never know how much I loved him...Never know how much I cared...When he put his arms around me...I felt safe anywhere...** _

John frowned as he looked up at Emilie in confusion. “Are we getting closer or are they just playing a game?”

_“Captain? It's the song lyrics for Fever, an old song from American pop culture. The words have been changed but they are still in the same style.”_

“Thank you, Jr, make sure you share everything with Jarvis. John and I are going to check the far end of the park. Did Tony find out anything about Clint?” Emilie spoke softly, her bright gaze moving through the crowd rapidly.

_“Not yet but he is still looking. J says that General DavPremont is resting in a private suite and Master Ford and his uncle are still under guard.”_

Emilie nodded, turning to John, she gave him a small smile. “Come John, we must move to the outer edges if we are to find anything of importance.”

John blinked in surprise at how similar the command sounded to one of Sherlock's. His rich baritone always demanding that John follow no matter what. He nodded as he listened to Emilie, following her closely as they made their way through the crowd. He let his thoughts drift to Ford and if he would mind John being a part of his life. He adored the toddler, wished he had known of him sooner but now understood Sherlock's need for discretion. Yet, he couldn't help but wish he'd had more time with Ford, to get to know him better. Maybe after all of this had been said and done they would get the chance. Maybe...

“Oh god, he's at the other end of the park and their lighting the wood piles there.”

John stopped as he bumped into Emilie, surprise and anger fought for dominance as he looked in the direction she was pointing. “We need to get over there as fast as possible. We need...” John blinked as a figure stepped in front of them, momentarily distracting him. He looked at the person in question, a curl of apprehension turning his stomach at the glance he was given. He followed the man, certain he knew him from somewhere but couldn't quite place him.

“John?” Emilie looked from John to the retreating figure. “Do you know him?”

“No, I, um, I've never seen him before.” John shook off the feeling of dejá vu and turned back towards Emilie. “Let's go, we need to get to Sherlock before they burn him to death.” He followed as closely behind Emilie as possible, until his phone rang. Pulling it from his pocket, John answered before checking his caller ID. “Watson, here.”

_“Hello, Dr. John Watson, former army Captain, John Hamish Watson. I want you to know that after tonight, everything you think you know will be proven wrong.”_

John frowned at the voice on the other end. “Who is this, what do you mean what I know is wrong?” He growled in frustration when the line went dead. “Bloody sodden arsehole! I don't have time for riddles or...or games!”

“John, this way, he is over here!”

He looked up to see a blond head disappearing in the sea of holiday colors. “Em? Emilie?!” John pushed through the crowd, losing sight of the rapidly moving woman. “Emilie, wait!” John felt a hand wrap around his wrist, jerking him backwards. Snarling, he turned on the unknown person and froze. “Emilie?”

“Where were you going, John? Was that someone else you did not know?” Emilie looked back in the direction John had been heading. Shaking her head at the distraction, she dismissed the person. “Come John, we must get to Sherlock before they light the fires.”

John nodded, his mind going briefly back to the person he'd been following. Who had it been and why had they been trying to get John to go in the opposite direction? Shaking his head, he followed after Emilie, running to catch up with her long strides. “You know how far we have to go?” He was distracted, something was not right. The texts, phone calls, even the strangers they kept running into. There was something all wrong about...

“He is in one of the last two, they start at the end then move inwards so we must hurry.” Emilie glanced behind her, slowing down so John could catch up with her. “I do not understand why they would pick such a public place? What do they hope to gain by trying to burn Sherlock publicly?”

John felt a cold wave of dread move through him at her question. _He said he would burn the heart out of me, John. He will take everyone and everything I hold dear in this world..._ “Em, what if...” He broke off at her look, nodding in understanding. “Oh god, they're getting ready to light them!” John took off at a run, shouting at a group of men holding torches. He tried to force his way through the crowd, waving and yelling to get their attention. By the time he was able to reach them, the bonfire had already been lit and was slowly starting to burn on one side. He felt a hand on his shoulder as he moved forward, shrugging the person off, John squinted as he tried to look through the logs.

“John, over here!”

Looking to his left, John saw Emilie standing at the back of the wood pile. He moved as quickly as possible through the crowd, cursing the number of people there on such a cold night. He noticed Emilie was peering at a section not yet covered by the fire. “Stand back, Em, let me see what I can do.” John pulled at the board Emilie had been struggling with, growling in frustration when it creaked but didn't budge. He stood up and kicked viciously at the board, stumbling when it broke inward. Bracing himself, John stepped back and kicked at the next board, hissing in pain when it didn't immediately give way. “Em, find something we can use to pry the wood out of the way! We need...” John paused as the boards above him started to groan. He tried to peer through the boards but saw nothing but darkness. Stepping back, John kicked at the board again, this time with more force, grinning as it started to give.

He kicked harder, aware that the fire was closer than before. Kicking out one more time, John was relieved when the board finally gave way. Kneeling down, he tried to push the two boards in, bending down to look around, while calling out for Sherlock. “Sherlock?! Can you hear me, are you in here?!” John reached through the small hole, searching blindly until his hand brushed something cold but solid. “Sherlock?” John moved his fingers again, searching for the unknown object. “Sherlock, damnit if you can hear me say something, please!” Pushing the wood in further, John pulled out a flashlight and used it to see inside. “Sherlock!” He could make out the dark curls and one pale hand. He started when someone knelt next to him, turning at the sound of a soft gasp.

“Is he alive, John?” Emilie looked under the structure, then glanced up warily at the boards and beams above them. “We must get him out, the longer we wait...”

“The higher the chances are of him burning to death.” John muttered. “Right, well...” John pushed at the boards, forcing them as wide as they would go. “Come on you crazy git, wake up!” He reached out for Sherlock, his fingers brushing over a slim wrist. Letting out a sigh of relief, John wrapped his fingers around the limb and pulled, grunting with the effort. “He's out, christ, they must have drugged him!” John grunted as he glanced up at Emilie, frowning as she looked at something behind him. “Emilie?”

“There is someone in the crowd watching us. The same person you were following earlier but they don't seem to want to be noticed.” Emilie leaned down closer to John, her eyes moving between him and their observer. At the sound of crackling wood, she looked back to where John was struggling to get to Sherlock again. “Here, let me John, we must get him out now!”

John moved back as Emilie moved forward, crawling half way through the opening. “Emilie?” He moved forward, trying to see around the slim figure. He looked up when the wood started to creak and groan. John could feel the heat from the fire as he brushed an arm across his forehead. “Christ, either I need to get back in the gym more or he weighs a bloody ton!” He grinned at Emilie's soft laugh, grunting as he helped her back out of the small hole.

“He's dead weight.” She huffed out. “I am not able to lift him out fully.”

John moved forward, gripping Sherlock under his arms and pulling. “Come on you blood, heavy arse!” John huffed out. He struggled to pull the unconscious man through the hole without either of them getting stuck. After one last hard tug, John was able to get Sherlock's upper body out, both of them falling back in a tangle of arms and clothing. “Emilie, his legs!” John's yell was muffled by Sherlock's scarf covering his face. He was certain she heard him however when he felt Sherlock's weight shift on top of him.

John struggled out from under the unmoving man, moving backwards then lowering him gently down on the ground. He leaned down to check Sherlock's pulse with shaky fingers, cursing when he couldn't find it. Without thought, John started CPR, he had to get him back. He would not lose him like this, not to death, not again.

“John?”

He glanced up at the worried voice. “I couldn't...I-I have to...” John shook his head, taking a deep breath, he leaned over Sherlock. Moving the dark head and adjusting his hold under his neck, John tilted his head back. “Em, come help me, I need you to...” He stopped when she was instantly beside him, hands already hovering over Sherlock's unmoving chest. “Right, training.” He gave her a small grin then leaned down, holding Sherlock's head gently, John pinched Sherlock's nose closed as he pressed his lips against the bow shaped mouth, giving Sherlock his breath...sharing with him his life...his _love_ for this man. He listened to Emilie count down as she pumped Sherlock's chest. He could hear the sound of sirens in the distance but ignored them. Leaning down again, John pressed his mouth against Sherlock's and repeated his actions, moving back as Emilie start her count over. He could hear someone shouting his and Emilie's names but ignored them when his intent gaze was met by a pair of hazy ice blue eyes. He held onto Sherlock while he gasped for breath, the long, pale arms reaching out for something to hold on to. “Easy, easy now, slow breath's Sherlock.”

Sherlock arched up as he gasped for breath, eyelids fluttering wildly. Where was he, what was happening now, why couldn't he hear anything. “Ford.” Sherlock rasped hoarsely. He felt a pair of strong hands holding him down and fought back. He had to get away, to get to Ford and John before Moran, Magnussen, and John's _wife._ Growling, Sherlock tried to get away from the unknown stranger until he heard someone calling his name.

“Sherlock? Sherlock I need you to focus on my voice! Can you do that, focus for me love, come on now I know you can do this.” John held onto the thrashing man, worried he would injure himself in some way. When ice blue eyes finally focused on him, John let out a soft sigh of relief. He looked up at the worried blonde above them. “I think he's finally coming around.”

“He does not look well, we need to...”

“M-my son, J-john, where is Ford?” Sherlock asked in a weak, raspy voice. He looked around him, noticing a flurry of movement from those surrounding them. He turned his head to his right and felt relief race through him. “Emilie, where is Ford?” He asked hoarsely.

“He is at the hospital with Mycroft and the Stark family. Bruce was in the ER with Aveline and Clint is missing as well.” Emilie told him in a rush. “We must get you checked and back to the hospital.”

“Oi! If you three are going to cause a right bloody scene, you could at least warn me in advance, yeah!”

All three heads turned at the sound of Greg's voice but it was John who spoke up first. “Mycroft finally able to ring you?” He asked, to the confusion of his friend. “Greg?”

“No, uh, I-I didn't, it wasn't Myc who rang me. Some anonymous person called in a tip about a blonde couple running around the park like they were crazy people.” Greg sighed. “Which one of you am I...” Greg was interrupted by the sounds of something close to an eruption and the sky lighting up behind him.

“What in the bloody hell?” John looked up at Greg then Emilie, surprise in his sky blue eyes. “What was...” John broke off as the ground beneath them started to tremble. He looked down and around them, struggling to get Sherlock up and on his feet. “Come on you, we need to...” John paused as the ground shook beneath them again, this time hard enough to cause concern. Holding onto Sherlock, John looked up at Emilie and Greg, worry creasing his brow. “What the hell is going on? We are not prone to...” John broke off as Sherlock struggled to stand upright.

“We must...the hospital, John...” Sherlock shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his mind. He needed to get to his son before anyone else could harm him. “T-the hospital...I need to...Ford.” Sherlock slurred out. He stumbled against John as he tried to determine the quickest route to the hospital.

“Sherlock you need to calm down first, we can't go anywhere with all of the debris and people in the way.” John tried to keep Sherlock as calm as possible, he knew that getting upset would do them no good right now.

“I can not stay here, Magnussen, Moran, and Ma...” Sherlock broke off as he glanced over at John, saw the confusion at his abruptness and continued. “They are after my son, I must get back to the hospital immediately.” Sherlock was walking away from John as quickly as his wobbly legs would move. “I-I must make sure nothing happens to him.”

“I can not reach Mycroft or Bruce.”

Sherlock slowly turned to look at Emilie, a frown curving his lips down. “Who exactly was with my son, again?”

Emilie looked up into a pair of hard ice blue eyes. “Ford is with his uncle.”

“Myc isn't answering his phone, called Anthea and she said there was an explosion at the hospital and that we need to get over there as quickly as possible!” Greg ran over to the silent couple, frowning when neither acknowledged him.

“Is my son in danger from his uncle?” Emilie asked softly, her lips thinned into a tight line at Sherlock's silence. “Sherlock...”

“No, not from Mycroft, directly.” Shaking his head as he looked over at Lestrade. “We can assume you already have a car waiting?”

Greg nodded, confused at the conversation he'd walked up on. “Yeah, we need to hurry because they said that a number of people were hurt and the streets are going to be hell getting there.”

John looked from Sherlock to Emilie, his earlier words on repeat in his head. “Sherlock, is that who kidnapped you from the hospital, Magnussen and Moran?”

Sherlock turned to follow Greg, his steps slow and sluggish. He glanced over at John, taking in the flushed face, clenched jaw, and angry frown. “He and Magnussen were in the ER when you went to attend to the bus accident. They were there after Danny but I...”

“You refused to let them take him.” Emilie sighed. “When, _when_ will you learn to leave that family alone Sheeza? Has Victor not done enough already that you would...”

“Danial is not guilty of Victor's sins Emilie, I will not hold him accountable for his brother's mistakes.” Sherlock said softly. He was grateful to have reached the car without passing out again, his head swimming the more he moved. He jerked when a strong hand landed on his shoulder. Turning, Sherlock looked down into the sky blue eyes of his blogger. “John?”

John helped Sherlock get into the back of the squad car, keeping one hand at the small of his back to help him keep his balance.“Tell me what's going on.” John looked over at the man now seated next to him. “We have time on the way to hospital for you to explain things.”

“Mycroft knew more than he originally stated, there is something else happening here, John. Something much deeper and darker than we were first led to believe.” Sherlock looked out of the window then turned back to John. “I can not lose my son John, not because I failed to discern exactly what my brother has gotten us all into.”

“I won't let that happen, Sherlock. No matter what we will figure this out together.” John frowned, glancing out the window at the passing buildings. Turning to Greg, John asked him for an update.

“I don't know, Anthea won't pick up and I can't reach Mycroft at all.” Greg said, hands clenching around the steering wheel. “It's almost as if there's a complete blackout around the area.”

“I can reach neither Wade, Bruce, or Steven. Tony is on his way back, the suit will ensure that he reaches the site before we do.” Emilie said softly. “Junior is unable to get any physical readings without a solid connection. I do not understand, why are we not able to get through?”

Sherlock frowned, his thoughts racing as he went over everything Magnussen had told him. “There is something missing, John, something that connects all of us. What ever it is, it is important, yet I can not figure it out.” Sherlock repeated. He looked over at John then blinked at the look on his face. “John?”

“Your brother said something about the sins of the fathers being paid for by the blood of the children. I-I'm not to sure what he meant but...” John looked from Sherlock to Emilie then back. “Could it have something to do with everyone involved? What is the common denominator for all of us here? Who would be the wild card in this entire situation?”

“Moriarty is the common denominator and everyone who has ever had dealings with him would be the wild card.” Sherlock said thoughtfully. He looked up as they pulled up to the outer edges of the perimeter set up in front of the hospital. Stepping out of the car, he could feel his heart racing as he looked at the damaged building. He could hear bits and pieces of conversation as they headed towards the nearest officer with Greg.

_“...floors were almost completely destroyed, a whole corner missing! W-we don't know how it happened, one minute we're standing there talking the next...BOOM! We were in complete darkness and half of the rooms were missing! There was a stranger dressed in black who...”_

“Sherlock!”

Sherlock jerked around from the conversation behind him to find John standing beside an angry Emilie as she argued with Greg and two other officers. Walking over to the group he frowned. “John, Emilie?”

“They refuse to let me go up and check on Ford! They can not find my son, Sherlock!” Emilie couldn't control the shiver that raced through her. “I never should have left him here. I should have...”

“You could not take him with you, he is to ill to be moved. He needed to stay here.” Sherlock said hollowly. “Where is Mycroft, you said he was with Ford as well?”

“He's in surgery, he was shot trying to stop Ford's kidnappers.” Greg answered in a flat voice.

Sherlock took a step back, looking from Emilie to Greg then back. Mycroft was indestructible, untouchable, how could he have been shot? They shot Mycroft and took his son. Sherlock looked between them, trying to catch his breath. _They took his son!_ How...how had he let this happen, how had he let this madman get this far that his son was now missing?

“Sherlock?”

“Someone has taken my son.” Sherlock could feel the numbing cold of shock as he watched Emilie's pale face crumble in pain. Moving forward, he pulled her close to him as she cried. “I will get him back.” He whispered against her hair as his arms tightened around her. “They took him from us, they tried to kill Mycroft in order to get to him. I _will_ get him back.”

“Sherlock, Emilie follow me, I have a way to get up there and see just what the bloody hell is going on.” John pushed back the sharp pang of jealousy that shot through him. He had to remind himself that Sherlock and Emilie shared a son and now was not the time to let his jealousy take control. When neither of them moved, he straightened to his full height, shoulder's shifting back, and his expression hardened. “If you two are going to bloody stand there and not do anything but...” He broke off as they both walked by him heading in the direction he'd previously pointed out. Glancing back at Greg, John gave him a short nod and jogged after the rapidly moving couple.

“Junior, where is Tony?” Emilie and Sherlock were moving up the stairs as fast as possible, aware that the building was still in danger of collapsing further. “I need you to give me an update on everyone.”

_“Captain Rogers and his son's are currently in the emergency room along with Dr. Banner and Agent Wilson. Agent Romanoff and Mr. Stark just arrived. The general is going into emergency surgery to stop internal bleeding and trauma to the fetus. Mycroft Holmes is still undergoing surgery due to a gun shot wound to the chest.”_

“Thank you, Junior, that is quite enough for now.” Sherlock said in a tight voice. He stopped on the third floor landing, the door having been blown off its hinges. Looking back at John and Emilie, he motioned them to remain silent as they slowly moved forward. Looking around, Sherlock paused at the sound of footsteps to his left. Glancing at Emilie, she gave him a quick nod and disappeared off in the direction indicated.

“Get behind me you crazy berk, don't need you passing out after everything so far.” John hissed as he pulled Sherlock behind him, glancing once in the direction Emilie had disappeared. Turning to his right, John looked back at Sherlock then moved forward. He headed down the hall towards Ford's room, trying to keep as low as possible. Looking back, he checked to make sure Sherlock was still behind him. He motioned in the direction of the still burning rubble. Squinting through the smoke, John moved forward slowly making his way through the smoking debris. It wasn't until a shadowy figure stepped out in front of them did he raise his hand holding his gun. “Freeze, New Scotland Yard!” John spoke in a clear, loud voice. And wasn't a bit surprised when the stranger stopped in place, glanced back at them then took off down the hall. Without hesitation, John took off after them, determined to catch who ever it was leaving Ford's room.

Sherlock watched as John ran after the unknown person, undecided about whether to follow them or not. Not until a sound behind him forced his gaze to the room they had come out of...his son's room. Walking in as quietly as he could, Sherlock slipped through the door and paused. The room was in shambles, the outer wall for the room, as well as the two above and below, was gone. Moving towards the bed, Sherlock could feel his hands trembling as he looked down, praying to see some sign of life. Something showing him that he made it in time to save him, that Mycroft's sacrifice was not in vain. Reaching for the top of the sheets, Sherlock started to pull them down until a soft voice stopped him.

“It is not him.”

He didn't turn towards the voice, knew she wouldn't lie to him about this. Instead, Sherlock let his hands curl into fists as he tried to stop the trembling. “I failed him, the one person I have always tried to keep safe and I failed him.” He looked down at the small shape, knowing it was nothing but a mound of pillows but pulled the sheets down anyway. He couldn't hold in the harsh breath that left him as he stepped back, his eyes beginning to burn from the smoke and his pain. “I failed him, Emilie.”

“You did not fail him, you have always done everything you can to protect him.” Emilie took a deep breath, letting it out on a soft sigh. “You did not know everything you were supposed to have known. Whatever is going on here is not of your doing alone. It isnot just about us anymore, Sherlock, this is beginning to involve people close to us, closer than just normal friends or family.” Emilie stood up from the small pile of rubble to Sherlock's right. Ice green eyes looked at him, anger making them almost translucent. “I want my son, William and I do not care what I have to do to get him back.”

Sherlock nodded, his mind going over everything they knew. “Mycroft holds the missing pieces we need, there is more that he has failed to tell us.”

“I once told him if he ever withholds information about Ford that could put him in danger, I'd kill him. A lesser man would already be dead but he is not fully at fault here.” Emilie said softly, her gaze fixed on the bed. “We must find out what it is that connects everyone. It is not a coincidence that the Stark Family and you go missing at the same time, Sherlock, and now Clint and Ford are both missing. These are our weaknesses, Sherlock, they are what holds us together.” Emilie waved a hand over the bed. “I have nothing without my son, he is my life.” She whispered.

“I will get him back, Emilie.” Sherlock pulled her to him, holding her loosely. “I will make sure to get our son back...alive.”

“Why do they want him so badly, he's just a child! What could he have...” Emilie stopped as a soft sob escaped her. “He's still sick, Sherlock.”

“We need help this time, Emilie, we can not do this alone.” Sherlock let his eyes close as he tried to keep from coming apart. He could feel the rage and pain vibrating through him, threatening to tear him in two. “W-we need to trust those around us to be able to help us in this, if we do not we could lose Ford forever.” He ran a hand across Emilie's back, pressing her closer as she shivered against him.

“I can not lose him, Sherlock, not after father's disappearance. We must find him.”

Sherlock tightened his hold on Emilie as he stared out at the horizon. The sky was beginning to darken with the first hints of night, a cool breeze sweeping through the room as they stood there in silence. “What ever it is Mycroft knows we will have to wait for. Until then we work with what we have and move forward.”

“You need to be in bed, you've been through a lot this evening.” Emilie sighed as she pulled back from Sherlock. “I need to go and see if Aveline is ok.”

“I will go with you then go to 221B, John may be here for a while, I do not wish to leave him alone. He is in danger as well.” Sherlock said softly. He looked back down at the bed beside him then stiffened. “Has anyone heard anything about Danial?”

Emilie frowned as her look turned thoughtful. “No, I have not.” Pulling out her small hand held, she unlocked the screen and smiled when Junior greeted her. “Junior, Lord Danial Trevor, where is he?”

_“Lord Danial Trevor is currently on the second floor under guard at the request of the British government. He is considered to be an asset to the country.”_

“Mycroft's doing, he probably...”

“I thought I'd find you two here.”

Sherlock and Emilie turned to find Tony standing in the doorway. “Mr. Stark?”

“Tony's fine, thanks, Mr. Stark is dead.” Tony slowly walked into the room. “I talked to Steve and the boys. Whatever it was it almost killed my youngest son and husband. What ever your fucking brother is involved in,” Tony glared at Sherlock. “Is going to get my family killed and I will not let that happen. I will kill anyone who get's in the way of my being able to protect them.”

“They have taken Ford, Tony, Sherlock and I understand better than you think.” Emilie said softly. “Is Steven and the boys ok?”

Tony blinked, surprised to find out the news on Ford. “Yeah, uh, th-they are in the ER with Bruce, trying to keep him calm. Aveline's in danger of losing the babies.” Tony's shoulder's slumped as he looked down at the floor. “I am sorry about Ford, I had a lead on Clint but then I got the call about the hospital and...”

“We will need to wait until Mycroft is out of surgery to talk to him.” Sherlock cut Tony off, a frown curving his lips down. “You've had dealings with James Moriarty, Tony?”

Tony frowned as he thought about the question. “Don't remember the first name but Moriarty is familiar. Why, is that who took my husband and son's? J, pull up everything you have on one James Moriarty and hurry please, daddy has an appointment with mom to get the kiddos checked.”

_“Yes sir, would you like me to read the information to you or would you prefer...”_

_“_ I'll read it, make sure Junior has a copy, keep Emilie and Sherlock in the loop?” Tony looked at Emilie, giving her a questioning tilt of his head.

“Thank you Tony and please let me know about Aveline. I will be down to check on her momentarily.” Emilie said softly.

Tony nodded as he looked at her closely. “This time Em, we can't run from what's chasing us. Whatever you think you know it's wrong.”

“You already know what is going on. It's more than just Andrew Moriarty pulling the strings here.” Sherlock looked at Tony closely, his gaze narrowing in concentration. “Mycroft's files, you were able to break the encryption on the rest of them.”

“You now have everything that I have, if there is anything else...” Tony shrugged as the sentence drifted off.

“We will have to wait for Mycroft.” Sherlock repeated softly. Shaking his head he looked up as John and Steve both walked into the room. “Is everything alright, John?”

“I don't bloody know! Christ they jumped out of the window and I just...” John shook his head as he looked up at Sherlock. “You ok, what do we know so far?”

Sherlock glanced over at Emilie, a frown curving his lips down. Turning back to John he sighed. “It would seem that Tony has given us more to think about.” He closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness passed over him.

“You need to get some rest, you've been drugged we don't know how many times and   
I'm pretty sure you haven't eaten or drank anything since you were taken.” John pulled Sherlock over to a chair, dusting it off and pushing him gently down. “Sit, you can't think properly if you're head is muddled.”

Sherlock sighed as he took a slow, deep breath. “Mycroft?”

“I will check on him as well, John is right, Sheeza, go home and get some rest, I will keep you informed.” Emilie leaned over and gave him a soft kiss on his forehead. “Tas nav jūsu vaina, Sherlock, nekas no tā ir tāpēc, ka jums. Mēs atradīsim sviestu, mums man nav citas izvēles.” (This is not your fault, Sherlock, none of this is because of you. We will find him, we have no other choice.) 

“Mēs atradīsim sviestu.”  (We will get him back) Sherlock repeated in a hollow voice. His gaze was riveted on the bed and the small pile of pillows in front of him. “Es should es nekad Vaicāts jums, lai sviestu bet es vēlējos redzēt sviestu, Es nokavēju manā labā.”  (I never should have asked you to bring him but I wished to see him, I missed my son.) 

“I would have either way, you mean to much to us for me not to.” Emilie said softly. She ran her fingers through the dark curls on Sherlock's head, letting out a shaky breath. “Please, get some rest, you will be needed later.”

Sherlock nodded as he stood up from his chair. “I need to check on Mycroft then make sure my parents are somewhere safe.” Turning to John, he frowned. “Has anyone been able to reach Anthea?”

“She is down stairs waiting on Myc to get out of surgery. I wanted to come see if I could help you in some way.”

“If I could get a ride to Baker St?” Sherlock asked Greg without turning around.

“Of course, I'll meet you downstairs then.” Greg looked around the room, not missing the disarray around them. “Just what the bloody hell is going on Sherlock?”

“I do not know but I intend to find out.” Sherlock said in a hard voice. He glanced around the room then turned to John. “Come with me to see about Mycroft, then we shall work on finding Ford?”

John nodded as he followed Sherlock out of the room.  _There is something evil lurking in the shadows._ John thought to himself. Looking around at the smoky hallway and the constant flow of people, he wondered just how many had been hurt in today's incident. How many more would have to suffer before they were able to catch another madman.

 


	24. Chapter 24

_John unlocked the door to the flat, surprised that his key still worked. He had expected Sherlock to change the locks, or at the very least, Emilie. Despite that, John was nervous, Sherlock had sent him a text asking him to come by and he'd agreed. He hadn't had a chance to see him since he and Mary had gotten back from Paris and he missed him terribly. John paused half way up at the sound of two breathless voices._

_“No, no Sherlock not there.” A soft sound of discontent then a soft sigh of pleasure drifted to John's burning ears. “See, this is the perfect way to do it.” She said breathlessly. “We should have done something such as this a long time ago.”_

_John paused as he waited to see if Sherlock would respond and almost slammed up the stairs and burst through the door, demanding to know what was going on when he heard the soft response._

_"You might have said that sooner. How do you expect me to know this when I've not done it in a while?" The deep baritone was equally breathless and held a note of amusement._

_“You can not blame me...oh god, that's wonderful, Sherlock! Still, you can not blame me for your lack of knowledge, however.”_

_“That would be the whole point, would it not, the fruits of our mutual pleasure?”_

_John felt his body go cold, what was going on, why would Sherlock ask him to come by if he and Emilie were going to..._

_Shaking his head in frustration, John took a deep breath and climbed the rest of the steps to the landing. Grasping the handle on the door, he turned the knob and pushed the door in. Walking through the doorway, John frowned at the dim room, looking around in quick familiarity. “Sherlock, Emilie, are you here?” What was going on, he could have sworn he'd just heard them. Unless..._

_Turning towards the bedroom, he looked at the closed door. The room, as far as he could tell, was dark. Walking over to the door, John took a deep breath as he gripped the knob and turned. He stopped in the middle of the doorway, blinking at the scene in front of him. “How...”_

_Sherlock was sitting in the middle of the bed with Emilie and Ford. They were smiling and cooing over a small bundle between them. Staring at the bed, John forced himself to walk over to the trio. They didn't seem to realize he was there or chose to ignore him because no one acknowledged his presence. It wasn't until he heard a small gurgle did his steps falter. “This is, h-how...”_

_“It is his right, John, they are married, after all.”_

_John stiffened at the sound of Mary's voice. “He would not do something like this and not tell me.”_

_“He tells you everything, does he? How about when he disappeared, did he tell you what he had planned then? Did he even tell you of his current plans”_

_“That was different, he was trying to save lives not hurt me. He explained all of...” John broke off with angry frustration as he kept his gaze on the bed._

_“Yet he never once told you of Emilie or Ford, said it was for their safety. You're always so quick to accept everything he says as truth. Always so trusting, always willing to do whatever it is he asks you to do. Not once have you ever stopped to consider if you_ should  _do it or not._ ”

_John flinched at the thinly veiled anger. He knew Mary would never forgive him for Sherlock but to be this openly cruel was even beyond the woman he knew. “Not as if you have very much room to talk there yourself, hmmm?” He stepped closer to the bed, his heart racing as he slowly looked between Sherlock and Emilie. “No...h-he would have...I-I would know...”_

_“Say hello to their daughter, Euros, beautiful isn't she? Look at her John, those beautiful, dark curls, those bright, ice blue eyes just like her brother and father. She's almost an exact duplicate of Ford. Look at her John and tell me that she isn't as beautiful as your own daughter.”_

_John stared at the small group, his heart pounding against his ribs. He tried to shake off Mary's words, to ignore the hot flash of jealousy that shot through him. “It's just a dream, Sherlock loves me and he's never had that type of relationship with Emilie. He would tell me...”_

_“Again, he tells you everything, hmm? Did he tell you who kidnapped him and what they wanted or did you ignore that as well? When are you going to wake up John?! Tell me, will it be before or after our daughter is born? When will you wake up, John!”_

John jerked awake as the car hit a bump, throwing him against Sherlock. He glanced up at the silent man, surprised to find his gaze on him. “Sherlock?” He asked shakily, he glanced around them, taking in the back of the squad car and the passing lights. “Are we much longer now?”

Sherlock shook his head, a frown curving his lips down. “I would tell you if something of that nature were to occur, John. I would not lead you to believe otherwise.” He reached over and gripped the trembling hands, holding them tightly between his. “I love Emilie, she is the mother of my son but the love I have for you...” He broke off as he looked into the sky blue eyes of his best friend. “I have died for you, John and I would willingly return to hell and back if it meant it would save you and my son.”

John blinked, surprised at how perceptive Sherlock was. “It was just a dream, Sherlock, my fears just getting the best of me.” John let out a tired sigh. “We just need some rest then we can regroup and figure out where to go from here.” He pulled Sherlock close as he nodded, dark curls wild about his face. “We will get him back, ok? Trust me, no matter what I have to do, we will get him back.”

The ride back to Baker Street was a solemn one. Sherlock spent the time looking out the window trying to figure out what he missed. He was aware of the silent man next to him, knew John should be headed back to his flat and his pregnant wife. Knew that if they were seen together more than needed it could mean the worst for them both. Taking a deep breath, Sherlock shifted in his seat and turned to face John. “You do not have to accompany me to the flat, John. I am sure Mary is worried sick about you.”

John blinked as he was jerked from his thoughts. Looking up at Sherlock he frowned at his statement. “I'll call her once we reach Baker Street, she'll understand, especially since she wasn't game for leaving to begin with.”

Sherlock nodded, his expression thoughtful as he tried to figure out how to tell John about his wife and her friends. “If you are sure, John.” Sherlock wouldn't offer his opinion on the matter, not right now at least. He would wait to see what Mary would do before he said anything to John about her involvement. Turning back to the window, Sherlock let his mind drift to what the doctors had said about Mycroft. “Do you believe the shooter meant to kill Mycroft or just slow him down, so to speak?” The wound hadn't been fatal but it had been enough to cause major concern, especially since Mycroft was now in a coma and had yet to wake up.

“They meant to harm not kill, it was an intentional shot.” John said softly. He glanced over at Sherlock, trying to see his face but getting nothing but shadow and light. “Sherlock?”

“I can not lose my son, John. Ford is the one good thing in my life besides you and I can not lose him.” Sherlock watched the street lights flash by them, his chest constricting in pain as he thought about who had Ford and where he could be. “He is only five and has yet to recover from his illness. H-he doesn't sleep well alone unless he's had a story read to him.” Sherlock said softly. He could feel his hands curling into fists as he thought about what could happen to Ford. “I never should have involved Emilie, if I had not asked for her help...”

“She was not forced to come, Sherlock. You and I both know if she did not want to be here she would not have come.” John reached over and covered a pale hand with his. “We are almost at Baker Street, is there anything you need to pick up before we get to the flat?”

“No.” Sherlock said softly. He turned his hand over so that his fingers were now interlaced with John's. “How long do I have the pleasure of your company?” He would admit to needing John tonight more than he has before and despite the threat Mary posed to them, he selfishly wanted John with him. “If you can not stay, I will understand.”

“I'll be staying with you, if that's alright?” John had no intention of leaving Sherlock alone tonight or any other night if he could help it. He was beginning to worry about Sherlock, with everything that's happened, he wasn't sure how he would respond. John glanced up at Greg in the rearview, giving a small nod. He turned his troubled gaze back to the window and watched as the streets lamps flew by. He was vaguely aware of a soft melody floating around the cabin of the car. Glancing at the radio, he frowned when he noticed it was dark. It wasn't until he heard Sherlock's voice did he realize the song was coming from him.

_“_ _Somn, copil, somn, În un somn atât de adânc, În timp ce vise dulci peste ochii tăi se pun în miȘcare, Și toată noaptea, Lumina lunii moale, În termen de micul tău leagăn se va uita pe furiȘ. Tăcere! oftează el, Râsul zboară, Atât de iute din ochi somnoroȘi._

_Încoace și încolo, Mai moale, mai lent, Și adormit repede, copilul meu se află._

_I never should have asked you to bring him but I wished to see him. I missed my son._

_Es should es nekad Vaicāts jums, lai sviestu bet es vēlējos redzēt sviestu. Es nokavēju manā labā_ _.”_ _(Sleep, baby, sleep, In slumber so deep, While sweet dreams across your eyes do creep, And all the night, The soft moonlight, Within your little cradle will peep. Hush! he sighs, The laughter flies, So swiftly from his drowsy eyes. To and fro, More soft, more slow, And fast asleep, my baby lies.)_

John blinked at the soft melody, surprised to hear it from the tall man next to him. He didn't understand the language but the melody was beautiful, haunting in its melody. “That's new.” John said softly. He looked over at the man next to him, wondering what was going through his head. When he received no response to his statement, John let out a soft sigh. He was used to Sherlock's frequent silences, usually he'd be in his mind palace for days before saying anything to anyone at all.

“It's his favorite nursery rhyme, Emilie sings it to him before bed. We discovered it on a trip to Tripoli.” Sherlock fell silent, his thoughts racing as they pulled up to the flat. “There is something missing, something important that I do not yet understand.” He muttered as he exited the back of the squad car. He glanced over at Greg and gave him a short nod. “You will let me know...”

“As soon as I hear anything you will know. I'm going to head back to hospital and check on Mycroft. I'll bring Emilie back if she wants to leave.” Greg's dark gaze scanned Sherlock's face. “You need to eat and get some rest, you're no good to him if you can't function properly.”

Sherlock waved away the concern as he turned to leave the car. “Yes, yes, John will make sure of it either way. I will let you know if I come across anything as well.” He stopped before unlocking the door to the flat. “Thank you, Lestrade, for your help and...” Sherlock paused as he turned to look back at his friend. “Your concern.” He gave him a short nod, turning to unlock the door to 221B.

John stared after Sherlock, surprise written across his face. “Well, Greg, I, uh, hmmm.” John said in surprise.

“Did he just thank me? Who would have thought I could be of use to the great Sherlock Holmes?” Greg said with a soft chuckle.

John leaned forward and gave Greg a pat on the shoulder. “Welcome to my world, mate. It's an awe inspiring thing, is it not?”

Greg gave John a grin, “I'm not even sure how I should feel.”

John chuckled as he got out of the squad car. “You take it for what it's worth. We both know it doesn't happen often but he means it when he says it.” He looked up as Sherlock shouted down from the upstairs window, shaking his head with a small smile. “I'll call you later, check up on Mycroft and Emilie.”

Greg nodded as he watched John close the door then head up to the flat. He glanced at the man standing in the window and sighed, there wouldn't be any sleep for the occupants of 221B tonight.

Sherlock stood in front of the upstairs window, violin already in position underneath his chin, bow string held high as he prepared to play the first notes of his new piece. He looked at the stand in front of him, sheet music open to a section already engraved on his heart but he hesitated. His vision blurring as he looked at the paper in front of him. He reached forward, brushing his fingers over the notes, letting out a rough sigh.

“Sherlock?”

He started at the sound of John's voice. “I started it for Ford, a new sort of lullaby for him to remember me by when ever I am unable to be with him.”

“May I hear it, would that, ummm, would that be ok?” John watched as Sherlock stared at the music in front of him. Waiting to see what the silent man would do, he headed to the kitchen after hanging up his coat. “Tea?”

“Yes, please.” Sherlock said softly. He stared at the sheet music, the notes beginning to dance in front of him. He had started the piece the night Mary had come to see him. He had been lonely, missing his son and John. Until suddenly, the melody had filled his head and he'd put the notes down on paper. Taking a deep breath, he raised his bow and started to play. Eyes drifting closed, Sherlock let the music take him away. He entered his mind palace and looked around, scanning the notes laid out in front of him. There was something he was missing, something very important that Mycroft has obviously withheld from them.

_I warned Mycroft to not withhold anything involving my son._

Sherlock's fingers moved over the strings, going from one set of notes to another. The melody started off soothing, easing into the song with a sweeping refrain. It described Ford and Emilie's relationship, the love of a mother for their only child. The second part, required broad, sweeping sounds, a swelling of notes that left one wondering. Until it abruptly softened, the melody turning into a soft refrain, reminding one of dancing in a moon lit meadow.

_Ah, now you are beginning to understand things. How none of this was coincidence but something long before any of you were thought of._

What had Magnussen meant by his statement? Other than the debt that Victor and Danny's father owed, there was nothing else connecting everyone, except...

“Sherlock, Mycroft said something to me that I don't quite understand. We were standing in front of Danial's room and he just...” John looked around the corner of the doorway and watched as Sherlock slowly stopped playing. “He said, _the sins of the father will be paid for by the blood of their children._ I'm not certain what he meant, exactly

Sherlock stopped in front of the window, brow creased in concentration. “The sins of the father...” He said softly. “None of this is coincidence but something thought of long before any of us.” He repeated Magnussens words, turning to look at John. “This is not because of us or the children, it's because of our parents and grandparents.” He looked at John, thoughts whirling as a distant memory flitted from one dark corner to the next. “A debt is owed and payment is being demanded.”

_“If he is our brother why can he not stay! I do not understand Mycroft, why must he leave?! I wish for him to stay!”_

_“Calm yourself, Sherlock, you know how father will react to you acting so childishly.”_

_“But I do not wish for him to leave, not if he is our brother! You must do something Mycroft, you must find a way to get father to let him stay!”_

“He was always sent away after the weekend, then one day...I never saw him again. Mycroft told me he and his family had moved but that cannot...” Sherlock drifted off as he tried to figure out the memory. “We have a younger brother but he was not allowed to stay with us.”

John looked around the corner at Sherlock's statement. “Wait, so you're saying that Siggerson had an affair? O-or that your mom, Lady Elizabeth, did?” At Sherlock's blank look, John sighed. He was in his mind palace and there was nothing left to do now but wait. John finished making tea, turning to the fridge to search out something for them to eat. “Can't live off of biscuits and water alone, Sherlock.” He muttered, moving around a variety of bowls. “If this is about family, why did they take Clint? Who is he related to in order...”

“He's the father of Aveline's child.” Sherlock said absently. Before wandering into the kitchen, he'd placed his violin back in its case, his thoughts going back over the information Tony had given them. “Ford is her god-son, which indirectly puts Cliff...”

“Clint, Sherlock, his name is Clint.” John cut him off with a soft chuckle, shaking his head when the other simply ignored him.

“...in the line of fire, so to speak. However, I do not yet understand the Stark family's connections other than through Aveline.” Sherlock frowned, he didn't have enough information about Tony Stark and his husband to understand the full picture. “Did Emilie leave a tablet or her, uh, her laptop?”

“Ummm...” John hummed from his position in front of the stove. “I think there's one on the coffee table, under one of the magazines, yeah?” He had started making pasta and was loath to leave it in case Sherlock decided he needed help.

“Ah, good, Junior?”

_“Yes, Commander Holmes?”_

John's head snapped at the response. “Uh, yeah, wait a minute, Commander Holmes? Just...what the hell is that?” He looked at Sherlock, surprised by the designation from the A.I.

Sherlock waved away John's question with a small frown.“It's a long and tedious story, one we will get into later. Right now I require some information.” Sitting down at the table, Sherlock moved his microscope and current slides off to one side. “Junior, I need to know everything you have about Tony Stark and his family.”

_“I can only give you what I am allowed, Commander. JARVIS controls the primary information for Anthony E. Stark and Captain Steven G. Rogers. Anything classified would have to be approved before I could display it.”_

“Give me what you have and we will worry about the rest later.” Sherlock scrolled through the screens, his fingers moving over the display with ease. “Yes, yes, this is all very basic and public information. Show me the early life of his father and grandfather, I understand they were a weapons family at one point and time.”

_“Yes sir, The elder Stark, Howard, Sr. had a number of weapons contracts with the American DOD. The designs he used and what he had been able to create had garnered the family a fortune as well as international acclaim. His work was later continued by both his son, Howard, Jr. and grandson, Anthony.”_

“Until Stark was kidnapped in Afghanistan.” Sherlock mused out loud. He picked up the fork setting next to the plate in front of him. Taking a bite out of the pasta, he paused, looking down in surprise. “Thank you, John.” He said softly, surprised to see he'd eaten over half of the food John had set before him.

John grinned, “You're very welcome love, now if you'll excuse me, I need to go make a phone call. You finish up what you're doing then it's off to get some rest. We need to be ready tomorrow.” At Sherlock's small nod, John cleared the table, setting the dirty dishes in the sink, deciding to get them later. He looked back at Sherlock, a fond smile curving his lips at the others intense study. He watched as Sherlock straightened and images floated up with his fingers. “Amazing.” John said in awe, looking at the blue screens in front of him. “This would make your work...”

“Easier to access without the proper precautions.” Sherlock muttered as he looked over the three screens to his left. “Wait, wait, go back. Tony has had dealings with Moriarty?”

“More like his father's business partner, or dead business partner, had dealings with Moriarty.” John read the screen in front of Sherlock. “Obadiah Stane...” John stepped back, a frown curving his lips down. “That name...”

“There, Paris is where they first met. I'm sure it wasn't a memorable meeting or else Tony would have mentioned it.” Sherlock scanned the files, flipping through screens until he finally stopped at one with a red warning. “Junior...”

_“JARVIS is not authorized to give anyone access without the proper credentials. I do apologize sir but you would need to contact General DavPremont for access.”_

_“_ He was one of the people who vouched for Sebastian at his trial. Said Seb's was an upstanding soldier and that he's always dealt fairly with his troops.” John stared at the screen now in front of him. “None of what's here is remotely close to what happened.” He said softly. He frowned as his memories from a time he thought long forgotten came rushing back. “Seb was a real bastard and spared no one. If you disobeyed an order he'd have you strung up and lashed or lay you out in the heat stark naked.” John shook his head to erase those memories, to force them back into the box they had slipped out from. “Stane had been in camp one night, said he was looking for a few men who could...” John frowned as he looked from the screen to Sherlock.

“It would appear that the Moriarty brothers have been involved in far more than we thought.” Sherlock said softly, his eyes scanning the screen Junior had just brought up. “Look here, the last time anyone had seen Andrew was back in Turkey when...” Sherlock broke off, eyes wide in surprise. “Junior, how accurate is the current information?”

_“It was just recently updated, Commander. Is there a discrepancy in the current information?”_

“No, I, uh, no we will finish this later, thank you.” Sherlock closed the screens and stood up. He left the kitchen and headed towards his bedroom, forgetting John was sitting across from him.

“Sherlock, what's going on, what did you find out?” John looked from the tablet to the broad back headed down the hall. Frowning, he picked up the tablet and scrolled the screens until he found the one Sherlock had been looking at. “This can't be right.” John raised the tablet as he stood up from the table. “Sherlock, this can't be right can it? I mean this would put him in Turkey right around the same time...” John stood in the doorway of Sherlock's bedroom, worry creasing his brow.

“The same time Ford was born.” Sherlock said with a soft voice. “He pretended to be the attending physician. We were told that Emilie's regular doctor was out sick that day and that he would be doing the delivery.” Sherlock said softly. He sank down onto the bed, his shoulder's slumping forward with weariness. “Mycroft found all of this out and said nothing, told neither Emilie or myself that this madman had access to our son's records this entire time.”

John watched as Sherlock curled up on the bed, his mind going over everything they'd just found out. “Emilie...”

“She would never withhold something like this from me, not about my son.” Sherlock said softly. His brother had known more than he'd originally said, more than he had let on at times... _none of this was coincidence but something long before any of you were thought of._ “Magnussen knew everything as well, he said that this has been planned since before any of us.”

“We need to tell Emilie, she needs...” John started in a rush.

“She found out as soon as I read the files, Junior alerted her. We will discuss it in the morning.” Sherlock let out a tired sigh, kicking off his shoes he pulled his legs up as close to his body as possible. “I can not lose my son, John.”

“I won't let that happen.” John repeated softly, toeing off his shoes, he climbed up onto the bed behind Sherlock. Wrapping an arm around the shivering man, John pulled him back against him. Pressing a kiss against the dark curls, he felt the tension slowly leaving the other as his breathing began to even out.

“Do not leave me John, please.” Sherlock whispered sleepily.

“There is nothing in the world that could make me do that. Come heaven or hell, we are in this together...forever.”

 


	25. Chapter 25

_There is nothing we can do until Mycroft is awake. If we move forward without having all of the information then...”_

_“I will_ not _wait! My son is in danger because he failed to warn us that the bastard after him delivered him! How in the hell is that something you do_ not _warn the parents about, especially considering who we are?! Why were we kept in the dark about something so vitsly important?!”_

_“That does not mean we should go after him half cocked. Who knows what could happen if we just go full out? Someone could lose their life and don't forget, this asshole still has Clint so there is that too.”_

_“We simply need to figure out how this involves our parents. Magnussen kept saying that all of this was thought of...plotted and planned long before us.”_

_“Well, I don't care about anything good ol' Howard was involved in but if it will protect my family...”_

_“If I am unable to protect mine, how will you protect yours? There is someone untrustworthy among us, someone that has been to close to the situation and now...”_

_“I will not stand here and allow you to accuse...”_

_“I am not accusing_ him. _I am accusing his wife! This woman who is a stranger to most of us, has been in contact with us on more than one occasion. I can not be expected to ignore the fact that she is known to associate with both Moran and the Magnussen! Do not tell me that I will have to simply accept...”_

_“Enough! That is...I will not stand here and allow you to make any type of veiled accusations towards John! It is_ Mary _that we must worry about not John. He is as much a victim of this as we all are. So control yourself, Emilie and allow me the time to just fucking think!”_

John sat on the side of the bed, head hanging low as he repeated the conversation over and over in his head. He could hear the venom in Emilie's voice, understood Sherlock's cold tone, and Tony's flippant attitude. What he hadn't been able to understand was the attitude of Captain Steve Rogers. He had looked at John with such understanding it had taken everything in him not to break down. 

_“You can't blame yourself, she's just angry and lashing out. Any parent would when their child is in danger.”_

_“Yet I find that I can't help_ but  _blame myself, at least in some small way, you know? My wife probably did have something to do with Clint and Ford's disappearance, so guilt...guilt would be the primary emotion then anger because I'm the one who introduced her into the circle and now she's trying to help tear it apart!”_

_“Did you plan for it to happen? Did you know before, when you first met her, that she was going to do what she is doing now? If you can say yes then ok, we have a problem but...if you can't then you are allowed the anger but the guilt nor blame are fully on you.”_

Shaking his head, John couldn't understand how Steve could have been so calm, until he remembered that he's been through more than any of them. Having had the serum taken from him as well as his family, it would take a lot to break him and yet he still stood strong.

_“It was hell, thinking about Tony and Johnny. I felt guilty for not being able to get us out of there and I was pissed off at...at a number of things that happened but I don't blame anyone but those who hurt us. It takes to much energy to hate the wrong people and even if it's the right ones it's not always for the best. Their power over you is in your anger at them. I choose not to focus my anger on them, instead I put it into working out, protecting my family, and refocusing on me. It's not easy but it sure feels a hell of a lot better than anything else.”_

John sighed, looking down at his hands, he knew Steve was right, John needed to refocus his anger and that meant he needed to remember the primary plan. Mary would need to leave London on the next train, the less she knew about what was going on with Emilie and Sherlock the better. Glancing behind him, he frowned, he was supposed to be at work in less than an hour but he was loath to leave. Mary had been livid, to say the least, when he refused to explain what happened a few nights ago. Demanding to know where John had been, why he had so many bandages and bruises, and why they were having to postpone their trip. It wasn't until he'd started asking her his own set of questions did she seem to back off, giving him a half formed story about an accident she had been involved in. Something about Mary's story hadn't sat right with him, however. She had cuts and bruises in place not consistent with her telling and she had been nervous not traumatized. 

Turning at the sound of his phone vibrating, John picked it up and smiled. Opening it he answered in a soft voice. “Hang on, ok?” Turning to look back at Mary, he stood up from the bed and left the room. Sighing as he closed the door, he headed downstairs and to the kitchen. “Sherlock?”

_“I couldn't sleep, I'm sorry if it's to early to call but I needed...a-are you alright, John?”_

John couldn't help the small smile that curved his lips, eyes drifting closed in relief. “It's fine, I ummm, I had to be up early anyway. You know, work and all.” He paused, listening to the other man's breathing. “I'm ok for now, kind of worried about you and Emilie though, how are you two holding up?” He could hear the weary sigh, could almost imagine seeing Sherlock curled up on his bed. Laying there in his favorite dressing gown holding Ford's favorite toy.

_“She is understandably upset, we both are, especially at not being able to_ do _anything. This inactivity is maddening, yet we find that it is affording us some type of room to think.”_

“You don't like the thoughts very much.” John said softly. He felt his stomach flutter, a warning of sorts that something was not right. The danger they were in was closer than they seemed to realize. “I'm beginning to not like them either.”

_“When are you scheduled to leave for the station?”_

John sighed, this time a rough sound that hinted at his irritation. “As soon as I get off tonight. We'll be leaving on the eight o'clock and get there around midnight.” At Sherlock's silence, John frowned, knowing what he was thinking. “Her sister's going to meet us at the station, I'll be taking the next train back. The GPS is already on my phone so you can find me at all times and Sam is on the same train so there is no way anything can happen to me.” He knew the words weren't strong enough but he hoped they would be for Sherlock. John had a sinking feeling that something bad was going to happen and he just hoped it didn't happen while he was away. “Stop worrying Sherlock, all will be fine.”

_“One can certainly hope that will be the case, John.”_

“I know but it has to be done now, doesn't it? If we had taken care of this sooner we wouldn't be here right now.” John could feel his anger rising, the hot wave of being denied what he wanted was a bitter taste in his mouth. Shaking his head, he looked up at the sounds of Mary moving around in the room. “I will see you when I return, right?”

_“Only if I do not decide to take Sam's place myself.”_

John chuckled as an image of Sherlock in one of his many disguises popped into his head. “No, for the love of god, please, let's just follow things as we have them, yeah?Anyway, you're needed here, aren't your parents supposed to be coming in today?” He grinned at Sherlock's sigh of frustration.

_“Yes and unfortunately mummy has been crying since she found out about Mycroft and Ford and Siggerson is simply confused as to anything that was said unless broken down to a lower level of speech.”_

John let out a quick bark of laughter, covering it up as quickly as possible with a cough. “Well, I can see why your mother would be upset but, uh, your dads confusion could simply be shock? It can happen to the best of us, you know?” 

_“Yes, well, he does not have to be so idiotic with his lack of understanding that it would simply drive even Mycroft crazy.”_

John bit back the comment that sprang to his lips, rolling his eyes at the comment. “Cut him some slack, yeah? He just found out his oldest son had been shot, his youngest son is engaged and a father, and his new grandson has been kidnapped.” John sighed, then a thought hit him. “Sherlock, this other...sibling you were talking about. You said it was a  _he_ , do you remember what he looked like o-or his name?”

_“No and it's very frustrating not to be able to question Mycroft. Maybe you could help me look through his papers once you return?”_

“Of course, especially if it will help explain some of what's going on.” He paused at the sound of a step creaking. “Mary's awake, I'll call you at lunch, ok?”

_“You won't forget?”_

“I won't forget, tell Emilie to hang in there too.” John disconnected the call once Sherlock agreed. Closing his phone, he slipped it into his pocket and walked out of the kitchen, not surprised to find Mary standing on the other side of the door. “Good morning.”

Mary looked at John, her expression suspicious as he studied her as well. She was aware that her story had been flat the other night. The bus accident had been convenient enough but she knew her marks didn't match up. Despite that, John had yet to mention it or where he had been for the past three days. “You were talking with someone?”

“Yeah, just confirming everything before I set out for the office.” John turned back towards the kitchen with a slight frown. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he unlocked it and sent a message to Sarah.

_**Running a bit late, give me another thirty and I'll make it up?** _

Hitting send, he closed his phone with a sigh. He wasn't in the mood for one of Mary's tantrums today but he could feel it coming. The angry glare heavy on his back as he remained facing towards the outer wall. “Well...”

“You were with him, weren't you, that's who you were talking to on the phone? The past three days, you were with Sherlock?!” Mary watched as John's shoulder's shifted beneath his shirt, could see his hands curl as he tried to control his anger. “What does Emilie even have to say about how you two carry on with each other? Does she have no sense of self respect to let you two behave in such a manner under the same roof as her son?” Mary hissed angrily. She didn't know if John was really with Sherlock or not. For all she knew he could have been at hospital due to the accident Sebastian caused. “Answer me! For once in your life just tell me the truth! Where you or where you not with Sherlock?!” She yelled, her anger and pain coloring her words. It was inevitable, this fight. It had been brewing for months and now...now here they were.

John felt himself stiffen as his temper flared. Turning slightly to where he could see Mary, John took a deep breath. This was not going to be pretty by any means, he could feel it from the way Mary stood in the doorway. “You keep asking that and I keep giving you the same answer. I was at work due to a bus accident then headed over to Greg's after.” John glanced at her from the corner of his eye, blue gaze taking in the way she stiffened in anger. “Want to tell me where you got those scrapes and bruises from? If you were involved in the bus accident, why did I not see you or get a call? You're pregnant, Mary, why would the attending physician not let me know and I was right there in the ER?” He glared at her, anger making his words come out harsh and low. “You want to tell me who was the bloke you were with last week, down on Ambermarle Street? There I was standing in the middle of the coffee shop with Greg and I see _you_ with some other man?” Squaring his shoulders, John turned to face Mary. “How about we discuss your association with good 'ol Seb and Magnussen, hmmm?” John struggled to keep his temper from getting the best of him. He could see her mind going over different scenarios, different stories, reasons as to why he would know what he knew. “You really wish to have an argument hours before you are to leave for your sister's? What possible reason could there be for us to...”

“None, there is no reason at all.” Mary's tone cut John off and she took some small sense of satisfaction at his momentary look of surprise. “I will see you once you have left work. I have errands to run before we leave, so if you will excuse me.”

John watched as she turned and headed back upstairs, his stomach churning with anxiety. She was to calm...calmer than she would usually be when they have an argument. Letting out a rough sigh, John reached in his pocket for his phone. He was surprised to find he had messages from Sarah, Sherlock, and Greg. Sliding through the menu, he opened them as he moved around the kitchen. He needed to at least grab a snack before he headed out, he had a long day ahead and wasn't sure when he would next eat. Pulling a mug down from the cupboard, John set about making a quick cup of tea. Scrolling through the message from Sarah, he grinned as he sent back a response. Filling the kettle, John set it on the stove to boil. It wasn't until another message from Greg popped up did he open any of the previous two.

_**Let me know when you're headed to the station, yeah? May try to see you two off before you go.** _

His second message was shorter, more precise and to the point.

_**Need you to come check Myc, please. Doctor seems...off? Can't trust anyone right now and could really use your opinion.** _

John frowned at the message. Greg wasn't one to worry easily. If something seemed off about the doctors then he was probably right. The man was known to have the best instincts on the force, hence why he had the position he had today.

_**Sherlock's being unusually quiet, you to have a row or something? Well, either way, get back with me. Maybe we can grab a pint or two once you're back in town.** _

John tried to hold back a sigh of worry. Sherlock going silent was usually a cause for worry but he would focus on that later right now he needed to finish getting ready for work. At the sound of the kettle hissing, John turned off the burner, pouring the water in his mug, he watched as the tea bag floated to the top. He sent back a reply to Greg, reassuring him he was on his way in a few and would check in on Mycroft once he'd started his rounds. Glancing over the messages from Sherlock, he frowned when he noticed one from an unknown number. Clicking on the icon, he blinked in surprise, rereading the message until he was sure he was reading it wrong. Stepping back from the counter, his head snapped up at the sound of a deep chuckle.

“Well, well, well, good morning to you, Johnny boy. Thought you would have already been headed to work.”

John stiffened as his gaze narrowed on Sebastian. “What the fuck are you doing in my house, Sebastian?” He glared at the man in front of him, hiding his surprise to find the other standing in his flat.

“I asked him to come, it seems we needed to take care of a few things sooner than expected.”

John turned at the sound of Mary's voice behind him. Looking between the two, he slowly moved to where he could see both Mary and Sebastian. Unfortunately it put him in a worse position than before. Now both exits were unavailable and he was backed into a corner with the only possible escape route being the window to his right. Glancing over at the glass he frowned, there was no way he'd make it before Sebastian caught him. Looking back at his wife, he kept his voice calm and even. “And what does any of that have to do with me, exactly?”

“Well, if your _posh boy_ had simply kept his nose out of other people's business, none of us would be where we are right fucking now!” Sebastian snarled in a low voice. “Now, you can either come with us quietly, Johnny boy, or I can make sure it hurts, either way you're ass is going to do one of the two.”

John let out a bark of laughter as he looked between the pair. “Fat chance of me going willingly. We both know I don't trust either of you so whatever you have planned to do you may as well do it.” He flinched at the sharp prick at his neck, turning to find Mary watching him. Her eyes were flat, devoid of emotion as she stared back at him.

“I warned him that if he did not let you go this would happen. Just as Thaddeus warned the Stark family and yet, they did not listen either.”

John blinked as his vision started to turn hazy. “What did you give me?” He stumbled back against the wall, struggling to remain upright. Turning his gaze sluggishly to Mary, he frowned. “Y-you drugged me?”

Mary watched as John slid down the wall, his head lolling to the side as he struggled to remain lucid. “Of course I drugged you what did you think was going to happen? I was going to let you ship me off to the country while you and your lover run around London happy and free?!” Mary knelt down in front of John, her face cold as she stared at her husband. “It is beyond me how Emilie is willing to ignore your indiscretions. I can not fathom how a lady such as herself would allow her fiancee to cheat on her. She is more dangerous than either of you know yet here you are, alive and without a scratch.”

“Oh, hohohoho, Johnny boy didn't tell you did he?” Sebastian looked between them, his smile widening at Mary's look of angry confusion. “We already know just how dangerous _Lady St, Cyr_ can be.” His gaze narrowed on John. “Don't we Johnny boy? We both know just how ruthless Emilie can and will be if pushed. The lengths she will go to...”

“You p-pushed her to it. Y-you knew she w-wouldn't...” John struggled to get his words out, his mind fuzzy as he tried hard to focus on what was happening. “Bastard, y-you forced...”

“I forced no one! Everyone did what they wanted to do!” Sebastian yelled, hands clenched at his sides. “She was no better than you or I, even with her bloody title. She was still a killer, a murderer that took orders without question.” Sebastian leaned down close to John, his voice hard as he glared at the other blond. “You think you know everything about your beloved posh boy and his supposed fiancee? You know _nothing_ of what their families are involved in. No _idea_ just how far all of this goes but, Johnny boy, you're about to find out. You're about to see first hand just how the mind of a Moriarty works.” He jerked John's limp arms forward and cuffed them. “You know, I've always liked you Johnny, you were always a straight shooter but...” Sebastian paused as he looked at the listing man. “But you were just to damn honest for your own good sometimes.”

Mary looked between John and Sebastian, her thoughts racing. John already knew Emilie? Why hadn't he told her or why hadn't Sebastian? “Why didn't you tell me you knew her, Seb? What is it you and Andy are trying to hide from me?” Her blue gaze narrowed on Sebastian as he slowly stood to his feet. “What were you involved in...”

“That's none of your business, you want to know then you need to ask Andy.” Tone hard, Sebastian glared at Mary, jaw clenching at his slip. Turning back to John, his gaze narrowed on him. He'd liked John back when they'd first met and he'd been pretty sure John had been interested as well. Until Sholto had shown up and somehow gained John's affections, charming him with his smiles and...

“Do not hurt him Seb dear or I'll make you regret it. He is after all, the father of my child.” Mary looked at John, a small frown curving her lips down. “We need to go, he was supposed to have been at work an hour ago.” Mary turned and headed back upstairs. “Sebastian, if one mark appears on his body or one hair is out of place, I promise you, I will kill you in front of Andy and I will make _sure_ I enjoy it.”

Sebastian glared at the retreating back, hating the fact that Jim had made him promise to never harm her. To make sure that no matter what happened to him, he would keep Mary safe. He'd never told him why and Sebastian had never questioned it, until now. “Damn you and your soft heart, Jimmy, always got you and him in trouble.” He muttered darkly. He turned back to John, studying the now unconscious man. He wouldn't touch him, not like that anyway, not anymore. His tastes ran to darker headed partners, with fair skin and plush lips. Shaking his head, Sebastian picked up the now unconscious man and carried him out of the kitchen. Glancing up the stairs, he frowned at the angry voice that floated down to him. Mary was going to get into something that not even he could save her from and if that happened, who knew what Jim would do from the grave.

 


	26. Chapter 26

Sherlock threw open the door to John and Mary's townhouse, heart racing as he took a minute to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm his pounding heart as he struggled to push back the nervous fear running along his nerves.

_John was ok, he_ had _to be ok, maybe he and Mary had decided to change their travel plans and simply left earlier than expected? That was it, they changed their departure time and John had forgotten to tell Sam. But he would_ never _forget to tell_ me _!_

“John, Mary? It's Sherlock, are you here?” Closing the door behind him, Sherlock slowly headed towards the living room, listening for any sign of movement. When no response came, Sherlock turned to the stairs, a frown curving his lips down. He would check the bedrooms and bathroom first then the kitchen and living room. Climbing the stairs, Sherlock paused at the sound of footfall. Moving as far into the shadows as possible, he looked back down the stairs trying to see who had entered the house. It wasn't until he saw a flash of blonde did he let out a soft sigh. “Emilie?”

Emilie looked up at the soft voice, smiling in relief. “You ran off faster than I could keep up. Have you found anything o-or anyone?” She looked around the darkened area, using a small flashlight to illuminate the space in front of her.

“No, I'll check up here if you will check the lower area?” He turned back towards the upper level, moving slowly in case there was someone else here. Once at the top of the stairs, Sherlock turned towards the first bedroom...the baby's nursery. Reaching for the door knob, he grasped the handle and turned. Pushing the door open, he slowly looked around the room, thankful for the soft glow of the street lamp outside. Walking into the small room, Sherlock turned in a slow circle. Nothing had been moved, the closet door had not been opened recently and the crib was undisturbed. Frowning he headed towards the hallway and into the bathroom, flipping the switch for the light his frown deepened. All of their toiletries were gone, which wouldn't be odd if Sam hadn't called saying neither of the Watson's had shown up at the station. Turning towards the bedroom, he already knew what to expect. “Emilie?!” He called down the stairs, not waiting for a reply. Turning on the light, he headed to the closet. Throwing open the door, he pulled the cord for the light, blinking when it lit up the small space. Rummaging through the clothes, he searched for John's travel bag. “He wouldn't leave it here if he'd really left.” He muttered, stiffening when the small navy case came into view. Reaching for it, Sherlock took a deep breath when his fingers brushed the handle.

“Something is not right Sherlock, there was a kettle still on the stove with a cup of cold tea on the counter. When I looked around, I found a needle under...the...Sherlock what is it, what have you found?” Emilie walked into the small space, a frown of concern curving her lips down.

“John would not leave his bag here. He had planned to drop it off at Lestrade's then take the train to Mary's sisters. He would not deviate from the plan, he reminded me this morning to stay with the plan.” Sherlock stared at the small bag, his stomach clenching as realization started to set in. “They have taken John from me.” Sherlock sat back on his heels, his ears ringing as he tried to control the suddenly violent urge to harm someone. “They took my son and John from me.” His voice was low as he stared at the bag in front of him. “I promised him that I would protect him, both of them and they have taken them from me.” He could feel his eyes burning as he tried to control the shiver that slid over him. An icy chill wrapped around him as he tried to figure out how he had let this happen. How had they been able to get to John without...His thoughts broke off at the sound of a car's engine outside.

“We must leave, Sherlock. There is someone coming and we can not afford to be caught here in the house.” Emilie whispered urgently as she pulled Sherlock to his feet, reaching down for the small bag. “Come, we will figure out everything back at the flat, for now let us leave before we are unable to find both Ford and John.”

Sherlock moved behind her, his head in a fog as he tried to focus on what Emilie was saying. “Em, h-he said he would burn the heart out of me, John and Ford...” Sherlock paused at the sound of a board creaking. Motioning to Emilie to move towards the window, he kept his gaze on the door. When another board creaked, he glanced back to see Emilie climbing through the window. “Luați ieșirea de incendiu, vă voi întâlni înapoi la apartamentul cât de repede pot.”(Take the fire escape, I will meet you back at the flat as soon as I can.) He whispered quickly.

“Nu, nu ar trebui să se separe. Ar putea fi...”(No, we should not separate. It could be...) Emilie looked from Sherlock to the door, frowning as she tried to decide what to do. “Sherlock, vino cu mine. Tu nu știi cine se află pe cealaltă parte a ușii!”(Sherlock, come with me. You do not know who is on the other side of the door!) Emilie kept her gaze on the door as she spoke. “Grăbește-te, trebuie să ne...”(Hurry, we must...) She broke off at the sound of someone turning the doorknob.

“Nu este timp. Du-te, Emilie! Voi prinde până la tine!”(There is no time. Go, Emilie! I will catch up to you!) Sherlock quickly looked around the room, moving back into the closet. He closed the door, leaving just enough space in hopes of seeing who entered the room. Hoping to get a view of the window he moved to the side, bitting back a curse when he wasn't able to see it clearly. Holding his breath, he started at the feel of his phone vibrating in his pocket. Pulling it out, he read the message, inwardly letting out a sigh.

_**Going to get the bike...calling Sam...do not move until clear...please, Sherlock stay where you are.** _

Sherlock felt his eyes close in relief until the unknown stranger started talking. He moved forward, listening intently, trying to make out what was being said.

_“Jayapur, Raajasthaan ke lie tikat tay kie gae hain. sunishchit karen ki aap usake saath havaee jahaaz par unhen, main vahaan aapako miloonga.”_ (The tickets are set for Jaipur, Rajasthan. Make sure you are on the plane with them, I will meet you there.)

Sherlock stiffened at the speakers voice, it was vaguely familiar but he couldn't remember from where. Pulling out his phone, he flipped through his apps until he found his recorder. Pressing the small red button, he held as still as possible, hoping to record something about John and Mary's where abouts.

_“Yah sujhaav dene ke lie kuchh nahin hai ki vah yahaan hai haan, haan, mujhe pata hai ki ve ek samasya hogee, lekin vah usake anurodh se inkaar nahin karenge. yah hamesha hai ... kisee ko pakado, bas baahar kheench liya.”_ (There is nothing to suggest that he has been here. Yes, yes, I know that they will be a problem but he would not refuse her request. It has always...hold on someone just pulled up outside.)

Sherlock frowned, the speaker spoke in a soft, lilting tone, the words sounded familiar but didn't seem to be exactly comfortable for them. Slowly easing forward, Sherlock tried to get a look at who the speaker could be. It wasn't until the person suddenly stepped in front of the partially open door did he jerk back among the clothes hanging in the small space. He stared into a pair of gray green eyes, familiar to him yet not the ones he knew. _Who is this person? I know them but from where?_

_“Yah vah hai, agar vah akelee hai to isaka matalab hoga ki vah pahale se hee yahaan hai ya vah nahin jaanata ki vah kahaan hai.”_ _(It is her, if she is here alone that would mean he has either already been here or she does not know where he is.)_

The stranger moved from in front of the closet to the window to verify who was outside. The tone going harsh as they spoke to the person on the other line. “Main use nahin maar sakata. agar aap aisa kuchh maanate hain jo main karoonga to aap bahut se poochhenge. usaka parivaar...”(I can not kill her. You ask to much if that is something you believe I will do. Her family...)

_“Are you sure, Sam? The house is dark a-and I don't...ok, ok if he said he was coming here...no I don't see anything but I'll check around and see.”_

Sherlock watched as the person turned away from the window, heading towards the bedroom door. He didn't move until he heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. They were male from the weight of the steps but they were used to being light on their feet, almost as if they were a fighter or swordsman.

“ _Baastard, sochata hai ki vah sabakuchh chala sakata hai aur apane haathon ko gandee nahin kar sakata...bevakooph.”_ (Bastard, thinks he can run everything and not have to get his hands dirty...stupid.)

Pushing the door open as silently as possible, Sherlock moved over to the window, glancing down to see Emilie's bike. He turned at the sound of the front door opening and a soft voice floating up the stairs.

_“Oh, excuse me, I was looking for Dr. and Mrs.Watson. Have you by chance seen them?”_

_“No, I'm sorry, I was looking for them as well.”_

Sherlock moved away from the window, looking around for anything out of place, he made his way towards the bedroom door. Listening intently to the conversation downstairs, he paused when the stranger asked Emilie's identity.

_“Ah, forgive me, I am a friend of the Watson family, may I ask who you are?”_

Sherlock grinned, he knew who ever the person was would have to give her a name, especially now that she had asked for it. Her tone not one giving the other an option.

_“Oh, forgive my manners, David Matthews, I work at hospital with John and Mary.”_

_“Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Matthews is it? However troubling the circumstances may be. If I may ask, how is it you are_ inside _of the Watson's home yet there seems to be no one here?”_

_“The door was unlocked when I arrived. I had just checked around the back for any signs of broken glass but didn't find any. I came back here hoping maybe they had forgotten to close the door or...”_

_“Or you had a bad feeling it was something else, I understand. I will be sure to inform D.I Lestrade once he arrives, he will want to know what you saw if anything.”_

_“Or, you can simply let me walk away,_ my Lady _and we can both ignore the fact that I know who you are and you will eventually figure out who I am.”_

_“I already know who you are_ Marius LeVeq. _Tell me where is my son, his god-father, and Dr. Watson?”_

_Marius...Marius LeVeq?_ Sherlock frowned as he slowly made his way downstairs. There was only one person they knew with that name and he was supposed to have been killed in a freak bombing accident. Or so Mycroft had told them...

_“Why would I tell you that, Emilie? Is there a reason I need to give you the information you request?”_

_“They almost killed your cousins.”_

_“You are lying.”_

_“When you get back to whomever you're reporting to, ask them yourself. The hospital had everyone there. The shooter took my son, Marius! Ford is_ my _son and they took him from the hospital after shooting his uncle who is now in a coma!”_

_“If what you are saying is true and they have been harmed...”_

_“They were both in the E.R. He with his husband and youngest son. While she, who is pregnant, with twins, was there with the father. Do you know how difficult it is to keep him calm?”_

_“Pa bay manti m 'Emilie St Cyr jis pou konsève pou lavi ou. Mwen pral gen ou te fè moute devan Gran Konsèy la...”_ _(Do not lie to me Emilie St. Cyr just to save your life. I will have you brought up before the council...)_

_“Pa sipoze ke ou gen dwa pou ka kanpe dwat devan m 'ak menase m' ak Gran Konsèy la, Marius. Foul moun yo w ap travay pou yo te pran pitit gason son.._ Sherlock _mwen an! Ou panse Gran Konsèy la pral koute ou yon fwa yo jwenn sa ou te ede perpétuer ?!”_ _(Do not presume that you have the right to stand before me and threaten me with the council, Marius. The people you are working for have taken my son..Sherlock's son! You think the council will listen to you once they find what you have helped perpetuate?!)_

_“We will soon find out, until then if what you say of my cousins is true, then I will be in touch.”_

_“Marius...”_

_“I will be in touch...watch over them until then.”_

Sherlock looked down the stairway, a frown curving his lips down. _Marius LeVeq was Aveline and Tony's cousin, what would he be doing working with people like Moriarty?_ Sherlock let the thought float around his mind for a moment before slowly making his way downstairs. “Emilie?”

She looked up at Sherlock, eyes wide and haunted. “He knows where Ford is, Sherlock. He knows but refused to say anything, the bastard, I should have killed him when I had the chance.”

“We will simply have to find out why he is with his current employers. Last reports had been that he was killed in an accidental bombing.” Sherlock looked around the lower levels, staying as close to the shadows as possible. “Where has he gone?”

“To the back, come, we must leave. Sam said there was a change in the tickets by a woman matching Mary's description. Also, Greg said that there has been a change with Mycroft, so we will need to head back to the hospital.”

Sherlock nodded at the soft voice. “You must rest, Emilie, you are no good to Ford if you're exhausted and sick.” He looked closely at the pale face. “You have not been to sleep in almost three days.”

“We have gone longer without and this is my son, I do not care if I sleep.” Emilie turned and headed back towards her bike, typing away on her phone.

Sherlock looked around the dark space, his frown returning. There was another reason Marius was here. It wasn't just to see him, there was something else, something he was looking for. “Why would he be in London? Marius has no ties here as far as we last knew. What would bring him from his home in America to London?”

Emilie looked up at Sherlock's question. “Tony is as surprised as you, he thought Marius was dead as well. We will have to speak with Aveline once we reach the hospital. We will go talk to the ticket taker at the station then check on everyone else.”

Sherlock nodded, climbing on the back of the bike as he looked around. “He knew I was here or at the very least had some intention of coming by.”

“Yes but you know how they are. They will only let you know if they feel the need.” Emilie started the engine of the bike, waiting for it to warm up. “Either way, we need to figure out who we can get to first and how long it will take us to reach them.” Emilie put the bike in gear and they took off in a cloud of gravel and dust.

“We must assume that Moriarty now knows that we have been informed of John's disappearance.” Sherlock shouted over the roar of the engine. “If he follows the same patterns of his brother, his next attempt will be flashier then the last and his next target will be against someone with power.”

“We need to get back to the hospital.” Emilie went silent, her mood going reflective as they pulled up to a stop sign. “Do you remember that case we had a while back, the one in Bengaluru?” Emilie asked, turning her head slightly to glance back at Sherlock. “Marius was there as well, took an interest in what happened.”

“It had to do with finding who had killed the Maharaja's third son, turned out it was his own mother. She had been ashamed of his lifestyle and no longer wanted to endure the embarrassment to the family.” Sherlock watched as they passed by cars and trucks, taking in the surrounding buildings. “We never did find the right poison that killed him, despite the Maharaja's gratitude.”

“There was always something off about that case. Why would the Queen Mother be the one to kill him, why not one of the servants or one of the concubines? But that's not the problem, the problem is that the only known sample came up missing a few months ago.” Emilie stopped at a red light, signaled to turn right then took off, merging with traffic. “It had been held in a supposedly secure facility until...”

“It went missing shortly before Ford fell ill.” Sherlock said softly, his mind going over everything he could remember about the case in India. “There was an antidote but if not administered in time...”

“We will not lose anyone else to these madmen. We will go to the hospital, check on Mycroft and Aveline then go from there. Sam said that he has the information from the station so we can get that from him.” She signaled as they weaved through traffic. “We need to find out who else is here with Marius, if his twin is in London...”

Sherlock nodded, his knowledge of the LeVeq twins having been gained from personal experience. “If Marius is here then we should expect to hear from Ramón some time soon.” Sherlock glanced at the traffic around them. “If he is not here to help us with finding Ford and John then he is not needed.”

“Be that as it may, he will be here. If for no other reason than his family has been compromised. We must be prepared for any and everything now.” Emilie weaved in and out of traffic heading back towards the hospital. She pulled up to a red light, sighing in frustration. “This is all getting to complicated, I do not understand how any of this involves us other than through our parents and grand parents.”

Sherlock let out a small hum, his thoughts going back over what they'd been discussing. “Emilie, if Marius is here, that can only mean that they plan to leave the country and need protection.” He frowned as they turned a corner, passing a variety of coffee shops. “And from everything we've heard it looks like we're going to India.” Sherlock said in a disgusted tone. He hadn't hated the case in India, if anything he'd learned to appreciate the culture he'd been immersed in. The only thing he hadn't been able to tolerate was the extreme heat in the desert. “The safest place for them to go would be Amer Fort in Jaipur.”

“Why do you say that?” Emilie asked as she pulled into the parking garage for the hospital. “Jaipur is not a place for any of us to be right now. The political issues going on down there will get us all killed.”

Sherlock grinned as he dismounted, brushing his coat down with a soft huff. “Do not tell me that you are afraid to go against a few insurgents?” He chuckled at her huff of irritation. “The last place the anecdote was held was in Amer. Marius mentioned Jaipur, Rajasthan to whom ever he was speaking with. If we can...”

“Emilie, Sherlock bout time you two made it back.”

They both looked up to see Sam walking towards them, a warm smile of welcome on his face.

“Hi Sammy!” Emilie ran towards him, a return smile on her lips. She jumped into the arms held out in welcome, hugging the broad shouldered pararescuer. “Tell me what's been happening, Greg said that there was a change in Mycroft's condition?”

“Slow down, first...” He gave her a soft kiss. “Welcome back sweetheart. Second, yes, there has been a change but I'll let Greg tell you that. And last, we have a few new visitors.” He glanced behind him, his arm tightening around Emilie's waist as she stiffened next to him. “Now, play nice, honey.”

“Captain St. Cyr, Commander Holmes, if it is at all possible we need to speak with you immediately.”

Sherlock looked at Emile and Sam, a frown curving his lips down. “I do not have time to play these games with you, Admiral. The only reason you are here is because of what happened to my brother. You want to come in and use military force to tell us how we are to proceed in the future with anything concerning everyone involved.” He glared at the gray haired man standing in front of him. “Correct me if I am wrong, Admiral Gaines.” He all but sneered at the other man, ignoring Sam's soft sound of reproach and Emilie's whispered warning. “My son and best friend are missing along with one of Ford's god fathers, there is no reason...”

“Part of the group that took them _is_ military, both American and British, and with General DavPremont having been put in harms way, it _makes_ this a military matter. Not excluding the fact the Dr. Watson was a Captain in the Royal British Army.”

Sherlock bared his teeth at the shorter man, his eyes blazing as he took a step forward. “Aveline is a civilian, has been since she stepped foot on British soil. You have no jurisdiction over her or us! And you care _nothing_ for John so do not come in here and think that just because you claim it a military operation we will step aside and let you do as you please.”

“That, is where you are wrong, Commander. I am still _your_ project leader and have every right to call you all into active duty if I so wish. There is nothing...” Admiral Gaines took a small step back at the look on Sherlock's face.

“If you think I will allow you to dictate to me how I should go about finding my son and John then you have been misinf...” Sherlock shouted, his temper flaring wildly out of control in the wake of both Ford and John's disappearance.

“ _C'est assez!_ Je ne tolérerai pas de me parler ainsi, Sherlock! Je suis ici pour _aider_ à ne pas _entraver_ , donc si vous souhaitez continuer avec votre tirade et colère de tempérament alors par tous les moyens le faire, mais il ne sera pas autour de moi!”( _That is enough!_ I will not tolerate you speaking to me in such a manner, Sherlock! I am here to _help_ not _hinder_ , so if you wish to continue with your tirade and temper tantrum then by all means do so but it will not be around me!)

Sherlock stiffened at the angry tone, ice blue gaze narrowing on the shorter man but he held his silence. Until someone cleared their throat and broke the tense silence. Turning to see who the intruder was, he was surprised to see Aveline in the doorway with Bruce Banner.

“You do know, you can be heard all the way inside, correct? If this is supposed to be government business, why are you yelling it about the parking garage?” Aveline looked around the small group in front of her, gray green gaze moving from person to person in silent study.

“Maruis is here. John if missing and Maruis was at the house.” Sherlock said in a petulant tone. “I am going to check on my brother, if no one has any issue with that?” His tone was sharp, the words clipped as he waited for someone to object. When none came, he turned and headed towards the entrance. When he moved closer to Aveline he gave her a soft look. “I really wish you would not do so much at once.”

“But where would the fun be in that? If I didn't, you and Em would get bored.”

Sherlock gave her a small smile, aware of the scratchy voice and the bruises coloring her skin. “Are you alright, Aveline, the baby...” He asked hesitantly, glancing from her to Bruce and back.

“ _They_ are well, thankfully, now go check on Mycroft, I will speak with Admiral Gaines.” Aveline gave him a small smile, waving him away as Bruce pushed her wheelchair towards the other three standing silently behind him.

Sherlock turned and walked into the hospital, his thoughts turning to John and what could have happened. What ever it was, he was certain that Mary had something to do with it. Sighing as he stepped onto the elevator, frowning as he looked at the panel. Should he go and see about Danial as well, could he afford to make the detour to check on the other? He was so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn't realized the car had stopped until someone spoke.

“You know, with a coat like that, you must be able to have incredible orgies in there and no one know it.”

Sherlock blinked at the statement, his thoughts jerking back to the present. “Wilson, must you always be so crude.” He gave Wade a quick glance from the corner of his eye, his frown deepening.

“Well, yeah considering that's _exactly_ how I am?” Wade shrugged, adjusting his pullover.

Sherlock's gaze narrowed on the man next to him, taking in the dark hoodie, dark jeans, and tennis shoes. “Taking in the city sites tonight?”

“Yep thought I'd take in London's night life. You know, look around, get some smog filled air. See if I can get mugged while I stand in front of the Eiffel Tower and sip on a hot latte.” Wade chuckled as he shifted his position against the elevator wall. “Plus, rumor has it that we may have a number of, uh, surprises arriving? You know, a sudden flood of tourists that decided to take in the sights, among other things.”

Sherlock frowned, aware of the relationship between Wade and Aveline. The history between the two had never been clear but no one had dared question it, chalking it up to the amount of time they'd known each other. “Do not presume that I will share...”

“You don't have to Sherlock, that's just it. This time I'm on the same side as you, no jokes or games. Trust me, I know what's at stake here.” Wade looked down at the floor then glanced over at Sherlock. He was aware of the others intense dislike of him but it usually wouldn't have bothered him. Not until he'd met... “I have a lot to lose if we can't stop these assholes soon.” He said softly, his thoughts drifting to a tall, pale brunette with baby blue eyes and a smile that stopped his heart.

Sherlock studied the now silent man, a shock of awareness passing through him. “You have found someone you value above yourself after all.” When Wade didn't answer, just turned his head away in surprise, Sherlock chuckled. “It happens to all of us, even you, Wilson.” He watched as the elevator stopped on his brother's floor, glancing around once again at his surroundings.

“You know, he didn't go down without a fight, Commander.” Wade glanced over at Sherlock, a knowing smile curving his lips. “When they brought him into the ER he was fighting them trying to get off of the gurney.”

Sherlock looked at Wade, surprise in his expression. “I did not know...”

“He'll be pissed that you know of course because you're like me in that aspect. You'll use a person's weakness against them if it will keep you entertained.” Wade said with a sad laugh.

Sherlock sighed as he stepped off the elevator. “Thank you, Wilson. We can expect you to help with the current situation at hand?”

Wade nodded, giving Sherlock a thoughtful look. “Yeah, like I said I have a reason to make sure this shit gets cleaned up.” Before the doors closed he gave Sherlock a leer. “You know, if we didn't have someone else in our hearts, I'd so totally do you. Especially with that coat one, I mean can you imagine the orgies we could have!”

Sherlock jerked in shock at the audacious comment, glaring at Wade as he laughed and the doors closed. Turning with a huff, he headed down the hall towards Mycroft's room, his steps slowing at the soft murmur of voices.

_“If he doesn't wake up, what are we to do?”_

_“Do not worry, sweetheart, this is Myc, he will wake up.”_

_“Wh-where is William, is he alright, I thought he was on his way?”_

_“He was on his way up, he may have gotten side tracked. Let me see if I can't find him for you.”_

Sherlock turned the handle on the door, pushing it in as he entered. “Mummy?” He wasn't surprised at the tear filled expression that turned to him. What did surprise him was the relief that appeared in the blue eyes watching him.

“Oh, William, thank goodness you're alright!”

Sherlock hugged his mother, nodded to his father, and shared a look with Greg. Walking over to the bed, he looked down at the still form of his brother. “You do understand that once you wake up you will have a number of questions to answer. One of them being...” He leaned down closer to Mycroft's ear, his voice laced with his anger and pain. “How could you not tell us that Moriarty was the one who delivered _my_ son? Now both he _and_ John are missing.”

“Eh, wait now what is this you're on about?”

Sherlock looked up at Greg, a frown curving his lips down. “Did you know about this? Were you aware that Andrew Moriarty was the one who delivered my son?” He looked at Greg, his gaze narrowing as he studied the man in front of him. _Fatigue, hunger, worry, stress, over worked, new cases added to an already heavy case load._ Stepping back from the bed, he sighed, shoulder's dropping as he glanced up at Greg from beneath his lashes. “Forgive me, there has been an added amount of stress lately...”

“It's alright but what is this about both Ford and _John_ being missing?” Greg looked at Sherlock, unfazed by his earlier outburst. “I spoke to him earlier this morning, he said he and Mary were supposed to be leaving after work.” Glancing up at the clock on the wall, he was surprised to see it was early evening.

“Sam called me from the station, John and Mary never showed up. I went by the house and their luggage and toiletries were gone as well. Everything except for John's blue travel case, he never leaves without it.” Sherlock said softly, sighing as his gaze moved over Mycroft. “What have the doctors said.”

“Well, he's pretty much out of the extreme danger zone, I guess? But it's now up to him on when he wakes up which is soon, I hope.” Greg said, sitting down next to the bed, he looked up at Sherlock. “You've found something out or else you wouldn't still be angry.”

“The people who took John, they are familiar with how all of us work. The danger to us has now expanded to everyone whom we hold dear. Moriarty told me at the pool, while John was wearing a vest of C-4, that he would burn the heart out of me. At the time the only people he knew of were Mrs. Hudson, John, and yourself, or so I was lead to believe. Now...” Sherlock looked at the still form of his brother. “I do not know what to believe.”

Greg looked from Mycroft to Sherlock and back, a frown curving his lips down. “And you think Myc...”

“He and father both know more than we've been lead to believe.” Sherlock said absently. “They have taken both Ford and John, all I have left is Mycroft...”

 


	27. Chapter 27

 

_John looked down at the flushed face, a soft smile curving his lips. “Christ, look at you. You are absolutely gorgeous like this.”_

_Sherlock could feel his face heating with pleasure, uncomfortable under the hot gaze. “John, do not stare so...” He tried to cover himself with his arms, self conscious in the face of John's silently, intense perusal._

_“No, no, yeah, ok I'm sorry but god Sherlock you just don't get it do you? For years I've looked at you and wondered and wanted and now...” John broke off with a soft groan, running a possessive hand down Sherlock's side. “I'm the only one who will ever see you like this.” He looked down into wide, dilated eyes. Leaning down to taste the warm, wet, plush mouth in front of him, he groaned as Sherlock responded. “You are mine from here on out, no matter what happens, you belong to me.”_

John jerked awake when the truck hit a hole in the road. Groaning, he struggled to sit up, throat clicking with dryness. Blinking, he squinted to make out his surroundings, jumping when a hand brushed against his, the soft touch making him shift away in fear.

“Funny how when you plan to infect someone you make sure to have the anecdote.”

John looked to his left, sighing in relief. “Clint.”

“Nice to see you've finally joined the party? I mean, not that I'm complaining but you know, I'm not a fan of how guests are treated around here.” Clint grinned as he moved over towards John legs. “They almost killed me and Aveline. The bastard that ran us off the road, almost killed her and...” He stopped and looked at John, the question already forming on his lips. “John...”

“She was still in the hospital last I heard. Dr. Banner was with her, as far as I know the babies were fine but she had been taken to the ER after they found her. Then there was an explosion at the hospital and Ford was kidnapped, Mycroft's been shot, and now for some odd reason I am here talking with you.”

“Babies? Th-there's more than one?” Clint looked at John, surprised by his revelation. “I-I thought...did she know? Jesus fuck if the hospital exploded that means that something happened to her or them?! Were they ok the last time you saw them, I mean was Bruce still with them? John, please, tell me...”

John groaned, rubbing his wrists and ankles once Clint had cut the ropes. “They were fine last I heard, Dr. Banner hasn't left her side and neither has uh, what was his name. Sarcastic fellow, makes jokes at the most inappropriate times?”

“Wade...Wade was with her? Good, then she'll be ok and what about Ford, you said he'd been kidnapped?” Clint moved towards the middle of the truck bed, keeping as quiet as possible. “Move over here, they can't see you to well on this side.” He spread out a torn up blanket, giving John a crooked grin of apology. “Haven't been able to do much shopping, you know with us leaving the country and all.”

John stiffened, his gaze jumping from Clint to the back of the truck. “We've left London?”

“Yeah, you uh, you weren't quite right when you came in. Your wife didn't look to happy either, something about Sherlock but I couldn't be sure.” Clint sighed. “We left a few days ago, I think, it could be longer? But they had brought in a doctor, something about someone being sick but...”

“It could be Ford.” John turned back to look at Clint. “Is there anyway we can find out where the hell we are?”

“Yeah, one of the, uh, guards seems to like me.” Clint gave him a rueful smile, expression hard as he turned away from John. “I can, uh, see if they know what's planned for us.”

John nodded, a frown curving his lips down. Something was wrong with Clint, the usually smiling face had closed off the moment he mentioned one of the guards. He studied him in silence for a moment, blue gaze taking in the hunched shoulder's, curved spine, and trembling hands. “Clint, what's go...” John stopped, looking up into surprised cobalt blue eyes. “Who is it, is it one of the guards or...” John's voice was hard as he watched Clint flinch at his words.

“It's not...you can't say anything John, ok? Look, the only reason I was allowed to ride in the truck with you is because of the deal I made! I had to do something, they threatened you both, said they'd kill Ford, almost put you...” Clint broke off as the truck stopped. He looked at John, eyes wide in surprise. “Lay down, I'll think of something to keep them from checking you.”

John laid down, watching Clint from beneath his lashes. He went over what Clint had just said. What deal had he made and with whom and kill Ford, why when they so obviously needed him? He waited, trying to keep his pulse as steady as possible when he heard Mary's voice, then another, more refined voice.

“These are the two you wish us to watch over? This one, he is familiar to us, why is he with you?”

Mary looked from Clint to the dark headed man next to her. “Do not worry about him, he is a means to a very important end. Simply make sure that they do not leave your site, understood?”

“Understood.”

John glanced up, raising his head far enough to see Mary's back as she left. He glanced at Clint then to the man standing outside. He frowned as a pair of gray green eyes stared at him in surprise. “Who is that man, he looks like he knows us?”

“He's Tony and Aveline's cousin, I think. I've only seen him once though and it wasn't under the best of circumstances.” Clint moved back towards John, a frown curving his lips down. “If he's here that means his twin is back in London. This could or coldn't work in our favor.”

John frowned as he sat up, watching the other man as he moved closer to the truck. “I've seen someone with his looks back in London but taller, I think.”

“You would have seen Marius. You must be Dr. Watson and Agent Barton, no?”

John looked at the sandy haired man, taking in the caramel complexion and intense gray green eyes. Upon closer inspection, John felt his face heating as he realized the man was almost beautiful, in an earthy sense. “I, uh, yes, I'm Dr. Watson and you are?”

“Ramón LeVeq, we have been looking for you and my filleul(godson). It has come to my attention, doctor that the pale one is enamored of you and has a taste for the blood of anyone who has harmed you or his child.” He studied John, a slow smile curving his lips. “I can see why, no?” Turning to Clint, his grin widened in delight. “Ahhh, and the reason for my dear Aveline's distress.” His gaze ran over Clint in a slow once over. “I can see why she desires you as well.”

John blinked, his frown deepening as the stranger seemed to mentally undress them. “Yeah, right, well, can you tell me exactly what the hell is going on here and where the hell are we?”

“Ah, that is right you do not know...” Ramón drifted off as he looked between the two men. “He told me that the child belonged to our Pale Gypsy yet we were unsure about his partner.” He reached forward and grasped John's chin. “If you are truly the partner of the pale one...” His gaze hardened as he held John's surprised one. “Why would you arrive with the murderess, hmmm?”

John held the angry gaze, refusing to give in to the pain of Ramón's nails biting into his skin. “I don't owe you an explanation about mine and Sherlock's relationship.” He jerked his head back, hissing at the sting of Ramón's nail's. “I've known him for almost five years, loved him for almost the same amount of time. Some unfortunate things happened and here we are.” He glared at the other man, brushing a hand across his stinging flesh.

“What are you doing here Ramón? You guys don't get involved in anything unless there's a large amount of money involved.”

“You are correct, we are on our way to India. We were unaware that the people involved were so close to us.” Ramón gave Clint a small smile, stepping back from the truck. “Forgive me in advance if I am unable to protect you as you feel I should. I can not interfere with their plans, to deviate would draw unnecessary attention.”

John looked between Clint and Ramón, his frown deepening. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

“I understand, you'll at least look after Ford? H-he's innocent of whatever is going on.” Clint watched as Ramón struggled with his decision. “Ramón, come on, he is Emilie and Sherlock's son, part of the tribe, we can't...”

“I will watch over little Gypsy. He will come to no harm while he is with us.” Ramón looked between John and Clint, giving them a brief nod before he turned and walked away.

“Who the bloody hell is he, just what the hell is going on?” John looked at Clint, his expression hard.

“They brought Ford in before you. God, I swear I thought he was dead! I just...I lost it when I saw him, he was pale and unmoving.” Clint sighed as he sat back against the truck. “When they said they could save him I thought they were lying, then they showed me the anecdote and I agreed to whatever I could to get him better.” He looked at John with an open expression, unashamed for having to do what he needed to protect them.

“Even if it's the use of your body?” John felt his stomach clench at Clint's guilty look. “I'm not judging you, I would do the same if it came down to it.” He sighed as he reached for Clint's wrist. “Aveline and Bruce are going be upset when they find out about these.”

“Well, they'll just have to make it better when I see them.” Clint gave him a small grin, looking down at his wrist. “Maybe he'll be to busy to call for me?” He looked up at John, a frown curving his lips down. “No matter what happens, don't step in, ok?”

“Clint...” John started angrily.

“No, seriously, I mean I know I joke around about a lot of things but this isn't a game. It involves to many lives for us to make any stupid, idiotic mistakes.” Clint jerked as the truck started up and shifted into gear. “If this is the only way I can protect Ford...”

“As I said before, I am not judging you.” John watched as Clint sat back with a tired sigh. “Will you at least tell me who it is, maybe I can help in some way?” When Clint shook his head and turned away, John sighed in frustration. No matter, he would find out who it was hurting Clint and make sure they didn't continue, then he'd find his son and get them all the hell out of this god forsaken desert, even if it meant taking some of them with him. 


	28. Chapter 28

“ _I love you, no matter what happens or who comes along, I will always love you. If we ever are separated, don't you ever forget that, alright?”_

_“It is easier to remember with you near me to remind me. No matter how tedious it may seem,_ I _will never get tired of hearing it.”_

_“Then I will tell you in your dreams and while you are awake. I, John H. Watson, loves Sherlock Holmes, from this life into the next.”_

_“I will never tire of hearing that.”_

_“Yeah, well...”_

_“And, I love you, John H. Watson, from heaven to hell and back, I will always love only you.”_

“Sheeza?”

Sherlock took a drag of his cigarette, refusing to turn at the soft voice. He knew why she had followed him outside, wanted to ignore the impending flood of questions, but simply waited in silence. Knowing she would speak when ready and only what she really wanted to say.

“Ramón and Cozette are not in New Orleans nor is Ross and Stryker in Washington.” Emilie looked out over the city, admiring the view of late night London. “Gaines is asking for our...assistance...in bringing everyone involved in.”

“There is no reason for me to allow any one to live. We have already played this game with these people and look at the results of our actions.” Sherlock finished off his cigarette, frowning as he put out the stub and tossed it away. “These people do not care about Ford, John, or Agent Barton. All that matters to them is power...power over something that we ourselves have yet to find out.” His voice was harsh, features thrown into sharp relief as the nighttime shadows moved across his face. He turned to look at the tall, blonde woman next to him. “I do not care what Gaines is asking nor will I be agreeable to anything that will delay us in rescuing John and Ford.”

“Aveline is asking us to give her and Tony a chance to get back to New York first. They still have to worry about Clint as well and the fact that Steven is not fully recovered is a concern as well.” Emilie frowned, her gaze moving over the scene before them. “There is something bothering me, however.” At his soft hum, she continued in a soft voice. “ _The sins of the father will be paid for by the blood of the children._ ”

“Whatever deals our parents and grandparents made to get to where the wished to be has no become our debt to pay.” Sherlock sank down onto the hospital roof, sighing in fatigue. “When will Aveline and Tony leave London?”

“She and Bruce leave tonight, Tony and his family left earlier this afternoon. Neither he nor his husband trust the doctors around their sons. Sam, of course will be staying here.” Emilie sat down next to him, pulling her knees up close to her chest. “Do you remember the time we took Ford to Macedonia? He was a year and the shaman at the tribe we stopped at blessed him. Said no matter what he went through, nothing could harm him.”

“Let us hope that the blessing will continue to do so.” Sherlock said softly, his thoughts turning to his son and the man he loved.

“Will you tell me more about him? He seems to be a very different person than would usually be around you.” Emilie asked softly, she turned to look at the silent man next to her, curious about the man who garnered so much of Sherlock's love and respect.

“He was the first person who was not a criminal or an associate of my brother's that took an interest in me. Not what I knew or could do but _me_ the person.” Sherlock sighed as they continued to look out over the London nite scene. “He is one of the few men I can safely call friend if not more.” He looked up at the dark, night sky, a soft smile curving his lips. He told Emilie about the first time he and John solved a case together. Telling her despite how it had appeared, he'd actually been flattered by John's flirtation but nervous as well. He didn't know the proper way of things so had told John the first thing that had come to mind. They talked until the sky turned a light rose, the early morning light offering a weak reassurance to another stressful day. It wasn't until Emilie's phone rang was the silence broken between them.

“Hello?” Emilie stiffened at the voice on the other line. “How is that possible? She left with Dr. Banner headed to the airport, there is no way...”

Sherlock looked at Emilie in confusion, a frown of concern curving her lips down. “Emilie what is it?”

“It's Wade, he says Aveline never made it on the plane. She arrived with Bruce but was not seen after check in.” Emilie stood up and headed to the door, her steps quick in her worry about her friend. Turning back to Sherlock, she paused. “Sheeza...”

“We will be heading to America as soon as you're ready. I guess Admiral Gaines will get his way...to a point.” He watched as she nodded, heading back into the hospital, leaving Sherlock alone with his thoughts. He looked out over the city, his thoughts again going back to the two most important people in his life. “No matter where you are, neither heaven nor hell will keep me from finding you and bringing you home.”

 


	29. Chapter 29

“ _Da, da, da, da!”_

_Sherlock looked up at the high pitched squeal in surprise, his face lighting up at his son's words. “Emilie, he can speak?!”_

_“Well, he's been making sounds mostly, he's just now figured out that two letters make different sounds. However, da has been his favorite word for the past few weeks, it is very fortunate that you are here to enjoy it in person.”_

_Sherlock grinned at Ford, watching as he rolled a ball across the floor. “What else have I missed out on, is he walking? We see he is obviously sitting up by himself and playing alone.” Voice going soft, Sherlock sat down in front of Ford and pushed the ball back towards him. “Are there no play dates for him, does he always play alone?” He could remember his childhood, the loneliness of never being invited to play dates. Having to spend time alone because your friends were scared of what you might say or do. “I do not wish for him to go through what I went through as a child.”_

_“He has play dates, Sheeza, however they are aware that his time with you is limited and offer it for you and Ford. Do not worry, he will want for nothing, you and I will make sure of it.”_

_“He will never want for anything as long as I am able to provide it for him.” He watched his son pull himself up from the floor, holding onto the edge of the table. “Will he not hurt himself?” He moved closer, wanting to catch the toddler if he were to fall._

_“As long as he knows you are there he's going to test his boundaries. Just watch him, he will let you know if he needs help or not. Remember how you were as a child? Always curious about the most unusual things. It was always the greatest fun to see our parents in an uproar over half of what you did.”_

_Chuckling, Sherlock watched as Ford slowly moved around the table towards him, a wide toothless grin curving his lips. “They were always so boring, what else was I supposed to do other than find a way to entertain myself.” His eyes widened in surprise as Ford slowly let go of the table, his small legs shaking as he took one shaky step forward, paused then took another. “Emilie...”_

_“Da!”_

_“Can you take another for me, come on I know you're smart enough to figure this out as well.” He held out his hands, taking a deep breath to steady them and watched as Ford took another shaky step forward then stopped. He looked up at Sherlock and gave him a wide grin. “Ah, I see he does have a tooth, if one were to look closely.”_

_“Yes, you can't really see it but it is there.”_

_Sherlock laughed as he watched Ford lift his foot to take another step but started to fall. Moving forward, Sherlock caught him before he could fall on the floor. Heart racing he lifted Ford up in a hug, whispering softly to him. Pulling back, he looked down at the flushed face and wide silver eyes. “Are you alright, maybe I was pushing you to hard so soon?” At Emilie's soft laugh, Sherlock turned to her with a scowl. “He almost fell Em, it is in no way entertaining.”_

_“The fact that you almost fell before him was, however. He will fall, Sheeza, it is how he learns, just as you, trial and error. Here let him down by the table, stand him on the side he started and you go back where you were. He will come back to you.”_

_Sherlock did as Emilie instructed, watching as Ford grinned and repeated his earlier steps. The only difference is he didn't fall this time. “As long as he knows we will catch him if he falls...”_

_“He will forever trust us, we are his parents and there is nothing we wouldn't do for our own.”_

Jerking awake, Sherlock looked around at his surroundings, groaning as he stretched the kinks out from his arms and legs. He looked over to find Emilie and Sam sitting across from him, both appeared to be sleeping but he knew looks could be deceiving. Turning to his left, he was surprised to find Wade sitting next to him, arms folded over his chest, head down, his face partially obscured by his usual dark hoody.

“If you stare any longer, I'll think you want to do something really naughty to me.”

Blinking in surprise, Sherlock frowned. “Yet again, you are always so crude with your attention, Wilson. Do you not have anything better to say when speaking to someone?”

“Well, if it gives me a chance to get you to talk like that, then..no I guess not. Must be why I like Egghead, Jr.” Wade turned to look at Sherlock, watching him from beneath his hood. “I find it sexy for a person to stimulate my mind which works for my body. Helps if they're fuckable as well but not necessarily a requirement.”

“Please tell me that you did not just say that Peter Stark is fuckable, because I will then be obligated to report you to his dads.”

Wade chuckled as he looked over at Sam. “Actually I meant Mr. Holmes but Petey boy is adorably cute as well. I guess that's another reason why I like Egghead, Jr.” He muttered absently. “Anyway, you understand that no matter what happens, my only concern other than the Stark family is the General. I don't answer to any of you really, unless Aveline says so and even then the only one who can speak for her would be Dr. Banner.”

Sherlock glared at Wade, watching as cold aquamarine eyes watched them. “We are not here to argue about who is first. If we find one then we will find the others. I only wish to bring Ford and John home safely.”

“Well, let me tell you, I'll kill anyone who gets in my way of me doing my job. I understand that Ramón and Marius are involved and that's going to be an issue. She isn't going to allow any of us to touch them.” Wade frowned at the snort of derision from Sherlock. “Don't think...” Wade started but was cut off by Emilie's soft voice

“I will kill either of them if they have harmed my son.” The group went quiet as Emilie stood up from her seat. “I understand the bonds of family but it has been family that has been trying to kill my son for most of his young life. Now, at a time when he needs us, I will have to comfort myself with the knowledge that he is with strangers while _family_ is trying to kill him still. I have known Aveline longer than you Wade and believe me when I say this is not a light decision but my son comes first. He is all I have in this world other than Sam and I will not lose him because of someone else's sense of obligation.” She turned and left the cabin, heading towards the cockpit.

“And that's who you get to go home to every night?” Wade grinned as he looked at Sam. He chuckled as the wingman glared at him in response. “No disrespect, just that she was sexy as hell right then.”

“Is that all you think about? When you can get your next sexual fix?” Sherlock sighed in agitation. He remembered now why he hated doing missions with Wade. His usually off color sense of humor and overall lack of brain to mouth filter was annoying, yet...

“I have to keep talking, if I stop then I'll have time to realize that I've fucked up royally. If something happens to the General...”

“She wouldn't blame you, she'd tell you to shut up and focus though. You have a job, Wade, watching Peter and Johnny. If something happens to them then you know she will never forgive you for _that_.” Sam gave him a sad smile. “She's a lot like Em, it's not her life she cares about but the lives of those that she loves most.”

Sherlock looked out the small window, his thoughts turning to John and Ford. _It's not her life she cares about but the lives of those she loves the most._ He'd given his life up once to save those he cared about the most. Now, he would go to the depths of hell and back to save the lives of the ones he loved above all else.

 


	30. A Devil's Passion, An Angel's Lust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part of the Story for Bruce, Aveline, and Clint...To get to this one though you've still gotta read at least Heaven's Demons, Hell's Angels or A Devil's Everything, An Angel's Nothing..These two stories are the beginning for this series and will explain alot! Other than that..sit back and enjoy the ride because it's about to get wild!!
> 
> XOXOXO TO EVERYONE WHO IS FOLLOWING..BOOKMARKED..FAVORITED..OR JUST EVEN READ THE STORIES..THANK YOU, YOU ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!!

“ _Do you remember our wedding night, John? Do you remember where you spent the night and with whom?”_

Staring out the window, John sighed as the question repeated itself over and over in his head. Yes he remembered, how could he forget one of the best nights of his life. Sherlock had been so responsive, so giving, and he had taken everything he could. Everything that had been offered, he'd greedily taken it and held on to it all. Loving him all night had been the right decision for John but now...now it was coming back to haunt him.

“You didn't really do it, did you? I mean, I'm not one to really say much, being that I have a boyfriend and girlfriend but on your wedding night?” Clint sat down beside John, holding out a small tin plate. “She's really pissed about it, isn't she?”

John chuckled despite the pain in his ribs. He'd received a beating for his answer to Mary's question, laughing at each punch when he could. “Yeah and I don't regret one single minute of it.” He glanced over at Clint, a question forming on his lips until the other blond turned towards him.

“I know she's here, they brought her in last night. The, uh, t-the guards said she was...” He looked at John, pushing back the shiver of fear. “You've seen her already? Is she...th-they didn't...”

“She was sleep, the trip would have been hell for her if she hadn't been sedated. They were worried about the babies, the idiot who sedated her gave her to much and he almost lost all three of...Clint, Clint wait where are you going?!” John jumped up and took off after the fast moving archer. “Clint wait you know what they'll do if we're found down there, we need a plan first!” He watched as Clint stopped, hands clenched by his sides. “Look, I know how you feel, having to sit by and watch from a distance but we can't afford to let them know they are getting to us.” He couldn't forget the greeting he'd been given by Ford. The pale face had lit up with so much love and pleasure, John's heart ached. He'd looked so much like Sherlock that all John could do was kneel and hold out his arms as the toddler ran to him. It had been his first and last mistake. Mary used Ford against him every chance she could, knowing he would do anything to protect the child. Reaching out, he gripped Clint's shoulder, squeezing in reassurance. “They're going to let me treat her from now on, no outsiders, thanks to Ramón.

Clint turned to look at John, surprise clear on his face. “He actually helped?” Shaking his head he sighed. “Of course he would she is his cousin.”

“They don't know that and we can't let them find out.” John said urgently. He looked up at the sound of voices, pulling Clint back to where they had been eating. “Look, I have to go check on her in about ten minutes, I'll see if I can find a way to get you in to see her. She was stable on my last visit so hopefully she'll be awake.”

“You think you can do that? I mean, get me in to see her?” Clint looked out over the lake in front of them, gaze unfocused as he thought about Aveline and how she ended up here. “She's six and a half months, John, she can't have them here. They will kill her once she delivers.” _Bruce wouldn't stop if anything happened to them._ He let the thought go, a sigh of fatigue leaving him. “If you can get me in to see her, I'd really appreciate it. I can't go to the guard, again, so if you can...” He flinched at the hand on his shoulder, ignoring the look of concern in the other's eyes. “It's nothing, don't worry about it, just get me in to see her, please.”

John nodded, he couldn't be sure but he'd heard rumors that Stryker was abusing his authority when it came to the shorter blond. “You know, she'll kill him if she finds out he's the one doing this to you. The bruises, the marks, she won't let him live once she finds out.”

Clint stiffened, pulling away from John. “She won't find out and neither will he. Not as long as it will keep her and the children safe, I'll do what...”

“Hey Johnny boy, your patient's awake!”

John looked up at the shout, a frown turning his lips down. “Come with me, Seb's usually pretty flexible when I want something.”

Clint's head snapped up at the comment, surprise making him look from John to the man walking towards them. “You know you can't trust him right, he's about as bad as Stryker when it comes to something he wants.”

“That may be but I know Seb, despite his tough guy act, he'll do what I ask if for no other reason because I asked it of him.” John glanced back at Clint then turned to face Sebastian. “If it will keep that bastards hands off of you long enough to get Aveline and maybe Ford out of here then I'll do it.” He stood up, squaring his shoulders as a grinning Sebastian stopped halfway to them. “Clint's coming with me, to keep me company if nothing else.”

“Awwww is Johnny boy lonely? All you had to do was say something and I would have arranged a play date.” Sebastian leered at John and Clint. “Think I'd enjoy going a few rounds with both of you, especially you, I hear Stryker can't keep up.” He grinned as Clint paled, his eyes widening in surprise. “What, thought we didn't talk?” He laughed out loud as he walked forward again, chuckling at the angry glare John gave him. “Hey now, don't be mad at me Johnny, blame ya' friend here for being so good at wha...”

John's fist flashed out, hitting Sebastian square in the mouth. “Don't you say another word to Clint about anything going on here. If it wasn't for you bloody bastards and your murdering bosses none of us would even fucking be here!” He glared at Sebastian, chest heaving as he tried to keep from letting his temper go completely. “Now, I have a patient to see about and Clint's coming with me, if there's any objections I'm sure you're more than willing to handle it.” Glancing to the right, John jerked his head towards the main building, walking away before Sebastian could say anything else.

“You didn't have to do that, you know? It's not like what he's saying...” Clint started but was cut off by an angry sound from John.

“No matter if it's true or not, doesn't give him the right to flaunt it as if you're doing it for your own pleasure. You're trying to protect Ford and doing it by any means necessary.” _Just like I am, protecting him by any means necessary._ “Come on, we'll worry about that later, right now let's get you in to see Aveline. Do you think they're looking for her?”

Clint grinned as he followed John into the main building and down a series of hallways. “Tony will tear the world apart and Bruce will destroy it to find her. Wade may burn it to ash as well.” Clint shook his head at the comment. “Still don't understand that relationship but, hey, it works for them.”

“Do you ever doubt, I mean, her love for you? Do you ever wonder if she loves you more?” John glanced over at Clint, wondering not for the first time just how exactly the relationship worked between Clint, Aveline, and Bruce.

“Naw, she loves us both equally which is great cause Bruce is crazy jealous over us and I'm kind of like just here? But will kill someone for them if I have to.” Clint shrugged his shoulder's belying the fact that he'd just threatened to kill anyone who harmed those he loved. “Kind of like how you're doing with Ford?” He glanced over at John, a knowing grin curving his lips. “She's your wife so I can't fault you but be careful, these people...”

“Mean to kill us eventually.” John said before pushing the doors to the infirmary open. He smiled at the woman staring back at him, moving slowly and speaking in a low voice. “General, do you recognize who I am?”

“You are Captain John Hamish Watson, I was one of your commanding officers on a mission that seems to have gone wrong? I am unsure as to...”

He watched as a frown curved her lips down, her gaze moving from him to the blond man behind him. “And my friend, do you recognize him?”

Aveline frowned as she studied the man behind John. He looked familiar, his blue gaze held something soft and desperate in them. “Clint?” She narrowed her gaze on him, looking him over from head to toe. “Agent Clint Barton, member of S.H.I.E.L.D. Former CIA operative for the United States government.”

“Is that all you remember, sweetheart, our military designations?” Clint stepped around John, watching the pale woman in front of him. “Tell me that's not the only thing you remember about me, honey. Please tell me that...”

“You were with me in London, Tony and Steve showed up. The car we were in was run off the road...Wade said...h-he told me they couldn't...” Aveline looked up at Clint with wide, terror filled eyes. “They couldn't find your body, Bruce said that you had been kidnapped along with Ford!” She cried, tears streaming down her pale face.

“I'm not dead honey, look at me, here, touch me, I'm not dead and neither are you.”

John watched as Clint held the crying woman, heart clenching at the sound of her heart breaking sobs. Shaking his head, he walked over to the sink and started washing his hands. No matter what, he still had a job to do and until they could figure a way out of here, he had no other choice but to do it.

 


End file.
